Hogwarts In The Middle
by HiBob
Summary: Malcolm is eleven. He is an American. He is on vacation in London with his family. His brother has found two train tickets, and is now looking for Platform 9 3/4. Only Reese would be that stupid. a completed story
1. Introduction

HOGWARTS IN THE MIDDLE 

By HiBob

Credits: Harry Potter et.al. are owned by JK Rowling. Malcolm in the Middle is owned by Fox. This applies to the entire story, and is the only disclaimer you will ever see.

Chapter 1: Introduction

This story is a crossover. That means that it is a story that combines the characters of two disparate sources. In this case, it combines the characters of the Harry Potter novels with the characters from an American TV series called Malcolm in the Middle.

For those of you who do not know who Harry Potter is, I would like to say congratulations on waking up from your coma. Seriously, there are people who know the movie, but not the book, or only know about it from what they have been told. This description is for them.

Harry Potter is the main character. He grew up in a closet, until he was eleven. Then he found out he was a wizard, and went off to Hogwarts to study magic. He and his friends are in Gryffindor.

Ron Weasley is his best friend at Hogwarts. He is the poor but proud type, with plenty of older brothers, and a younger sister. He helps Harry fell better by doing as poorly as him in classes, then makes him feel bad by beating him at wizard chess.

Hermione Granger is also a close friend, every since the three of them had a close call in the girls bathroom with a troll. (Don't ask.) She is the smart one of the group. She is also the only one in the current student body who has read "Hogwarts, a History."

Draco Malfoy is the evil kid on the block. He hates Harry because Harry doesn't like him. He is in Slytherin. All the evil students are in Slytherin.

Voldemort is the evil bad guy in the books. He killed Harry's Parents, and he wasn't nice about it. He tried to kill Harry, but failed. (All Harry got was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt. He also gained the ability to talk to snakes, and other reptiles. As a result, he is the only person in the Greater London Area who honestly understands what lawyers are talking about.) Voldie, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, to use his nom de plume (pen name), is an alumnus of Slytherin.

Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster of Hogwarts. He is 150 years old, and knows everything. He only makes mistakes when Harry is prepared to jump in and save the day.

Everybody Else in the book is either a student or a teacher. There is Hagrid, who teaches how to care for animals, a nice guy for a giant. Severus Snape is a good guy, although he hates everyone who is not a Slytherin. He hates Harry because Harry's father saved his life. (Go figure.) Professor Flitwick is short. Professor Binns is dead. Professor McGonagall is good.

Honorable mentions go to Fred and George Weasley AKA The Twins. They play Quidditch with Harry, and pranks on everyone else. Also appearing is Peeves the Poltergeist, who is a general nuisance.

  
  


Many people will not know who Malcolm is. This introduction is for them.

The family consists of six people, the father and mother, and their four sons.

Lois is the mother. She is a control freak. Her goal in life is to make all of the men in her life behave. Her major weapons are fear and intimidation.

Hal is the father. He is best known for having his wife shave the excessive hair off his body while he stands naked in the kitchen reading the newspaper. He loves his wife, and he loves the fact that she tries to control him. He also loves motorcycles, Racing Cars and figure skating.

Francis is the eldest born child. He is currently at military school in Alabama, in the vain hope that he will learn the error of his ways. His parents would be surprised to find out that, not only has he learned the errors of his ways, he has taught them to his fellow students at the academy.

Of the remaining three brothers, Reese is the oldest. He is a professional bully. It is rumored that he holds seminars for the benefit of other bullies in the state. He will bully anyone, especially his brothers. (He will also make sure he is the only one who bullies his brothers.)

The youngest brother is Dewey. Dewey always seems to be in the way. His brothers routinely abandon him, so they can go do what they want. He acts quirky, and when carefully observed, will confuse you. He is not to be underestimated. He is rumored to be as smart as his middle brother, Malcolm, but you know how rumors are.

Malcolm is the star of the show. He is a normal boy, who is discovered to have a large IQ, and is put in a special class of gifted youngsters, called the Krelbournes. He hates it. The teacher gives them stupid class assignments, such as medieval dancing in period costumes. All of his classmates would give nerds a bad name. On top of all of this, it was his family that put the dys into dysfunctional. His stated goal in life is to behave just like a normal child. The problem is that he has no clue as to what normal means.

In the context of the story, Harry is entering his third year at Hogwarts. He is 13. Malcolm has finished fifth grade, the year he became a Krelbourne. He is 11. Reese is placed as 13. Dewey is 4 years younger than Malcolm. It is September 1, and for some unexplained reason, Malcolm and his family are in London, and at Kings Cross Station. (If you need an explanation, try this. They are on vacation, and are heading to the borderlands of Scotland on a final excursion before returning home. If you want to know how they could afford it, they won a contest or something. After all, the story is about what happened when they got there. How they got there doesn't matter to the story and it is just a bunch of nitpicking that drives me up the wall))

The main effort of this, and all crossover stories in general, is to have the characters interact as they normally would. For example, I would not have Reese fall in love with Hermione, unless it happened in such a way as to make him look completely stupid. Nor would I have Hermione return his love unless she had a frontal lobotomy. These two characters would never mesh in that way.

Malcolm is the perfect archetype. He can be as abrasive as his brother, but he always tries to present a good side. On the other hand, he will be very polite, while he thinks of a devious plan to use against someone, probably his brother. He will quickly join almost any group, and can fit in anywhere if he tries. Yet, despite his chameleon nature, he has a distinct personality which always shows through.

In the show, Malcolm has the habit of turning to the camera, and revealing his personal thoughts. This habit is adapted to the story by putting these thoughts in [Brackets]. Enjoy the reading, and flame the mistakes.

  
  



	2. Barbarians at the Gate

Chapter 2: Barbarians at the gate. 

"It's obviously fake, Reese. Just throw it away." Malcolm looked at his older brother in disgust.

"No," Reese insisted, "These are real tickets, all we have to do is find the right platform."

Malcolm stopped his brother. "Reese, just look around you, There's Platform Nine, There's Platform Ten, There isn't enough room for a Platform Nine and 3/4."

Reese wouldn't buy it. "It's around here somewhere. These British always do things different. They don't even speak English the right way."

Malcolm shook his head, turned and took the pen from my hand.

[I don't even know why I try. Here we are in London, and he's criticizing the language. Now he wants to find some imaginary train.]

When Malcolm returned the pen, Reese was still complaining. "Like that guy at the hotel, he kept asking if I needed the lift. I told him, 'It's called an elevator, you jerk'. But this is the type of thing they do all the time. They always mess things up." He began to ask people where the Platform was. Most people ignored him, or insulted him. "Did you hear that, he doesn't know where it is, and he calls me stupid." 

"Excuse me," an elderly lady said, "Which platform are you looking for?"

Reese showed her the tickets he found. She looked at them, while a boy, the same age as Reese, looked over the two brothers. 

"You're Yanks, aren't you?"

"Of course they are Neville," said his grandmother, "you heard their accents."

"Hey," said Reese, "You people are the ones with the funny accents."

Malcolm blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry ma'am. My brother Reese is..."

"Typically American?" Gran finished, giving the younger brother a friendly smile.

Reese started to say something but Malcolm kicked him. As Reese hopped around Malcolm asked, "You were saying there is a platform with that number."

Neville grinned and Gran also gave an amused smile. "You are a first year?" she asked.

"No, Ma'am," Malcolm responded, "I'm going into sixth grade, uh, my sixth year."

Neville spoke up at that, "Gran's right, you are a first year. Our upper schools are seven years, so that a first year would be the same as your sixth grade."

'Cool,' Malcolm thought, nodding his head.

"That's dumb," Reese snickered

Gran pursed her lips, saying "It's one of those old habits, I'm afraid, something akin to automatically insulting anything someone says."

Reese laughed, "Now that is really stupid. Who'd want to get into a habit like that?"

[I love this lady. She has Reese's number down to ten decimal places. I only wish Reese was smart enough to understand what she's doing.]

"Oh, where is your luggage," Gran asked suddenly.

"Our mom takes care of that," Reese said without thinking.

"Your mother is a wise woman."

"Whatever. So where's this platform?"

Gran gave the tickets back to the two brothers and pointed, "You just walk through that wall. Neville, show them."

"Sure, Gran, Bye" Neville said, giving his grandmother a kiss. He grabbed his trunk and walked though to Platform Nine3/4. Both boys grew wide-eyed. Reese recovered first, telling Malcolm to follow. Malcolm pulled him to the side.

"Reese, that kid just walked into a steel wall."

"Yeah, and if we follow him, we get to see the train. This has got to be something good."

Malcolm's common sense forced itself outward. "If we actually do this and get on the wrong train, Mom will kill us."

Reese smiled down on his little brother. Gesturing with his finger, he said, "But not until she gets her hands on us." With that, he jumped through the wall.

[That was an amazing statement, coming from Reese. I'm trying, but I can't find a single flaw in his logic.]

Malcolm looked at Gran and said, "Thank you. And I'm Malcolm."

Gran took his hand and introduced herself, adding, "It was very nice meeting you, Malcolm, and I wouldn't mind meeting you again, without your brother." They both grinned at that last part.

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Malcolm walked into the wall.

"It's over to the right a little more," Gran said, giving the boy some tissues for his bloody nose. Tilting his head back to help stop the bleeding, she guided him through the hidden opening.

  
  


Reese was standing there, with his insane giggle. "You know what his name is? Neville Longbottom. What a loser name." Reese turned around and saw the train, The Hogwarts Express. "This is going to be so cool," he said, and ran off.

Neville looked at Malcolm and the wad of tissue stuck up his nose. "Missed, didn't you. Don't tell anyone but I missed my first time, too."

Malcolm nodded, but didn't really feel any better. "I want to apologize about my brother."

Neville waved him off, "You don't have to apologize, I know some fellows he would do splendidly with. Now, let's get aboard."

The two walked toward the train. In the distance, Reese could be heard yelling, "This is so cool," and "What are you looking at?"

"Malcolm, how is it that you were accepted to Hogwarts? I mean, you are an American after all."

"To where?"

Neville stopped, forcing the younger boy to stop as well. "Listen to me very carefully, Malcolm. Did you ever receive a letter saying you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

Malcolm laughed nervously at the other boy's serious attitude. "No, I've never even heard of such a place."

"Then where did you and your brother get those tickets?"

"Reese found them. I knew they were a joke, but he insisted it was real."

Neville pointed to the sign near them and said, "Your brother was right. Malcolm, can you do magic?"

[Is it me, or is this a really strange conversation? I don't know what is going on, but if anyone says Reese is right about something, and then proves it, that IS strange. Now he wants to know if I can do magic. Of course I can do magic.]

"Sure, I've got a few card tricks I'm really good at."

Neville gave him an amused smile. "Is your brother also as good at magic?"

"Reese can't even shuffle a deck of cards."

"Malcolm, I have to tell you, you are not supposed to be here. You could get into a lot of trouble."

Up by the train, Reese could be heard saying, "Hey, move it. I'm walking here."

Neville gave an annoyed look toward the train. Malcolm watched his gaze, and said, "I guess we should just leave, then."

Neville gave him a smile that was a perfect imitation of George Weasley, "I wouldn't dream of it. There are some people I would like your brother to meet."

Malcolm smiled back. He did not know George Weasley, but he knew exactly what Neville meant. Reese had been in overdrive ever since he realized that anyone he insulted, he would probably never see again anyway. The only thing confusing him was what all of this had to do with card tricks.

Neville, for his part, actually liked Malcolm. The eleven-year-old was smart, very smart, but never tried to rub anyone's face into it, unlike a fellow student during her first year. It was a marvel that he and his brother found the tickets, and then stumbled onto the right person to help them. What Neville wanted, most of all, was to see Malcolm's face when he finally realized that magic was real.

  
  


The two boys boarded the train. Finding an empty compartment, they settled down. "I'm not very good at magic," Neville admitted, in carefully chosen words, "But I'm following my family traditions by going to the school of magic." He felt bad about teasing Malcolm, but there was an underlying rush of energy that he felt. The two discussed what classes he took and Neville marveled again at how his new friend continually failed to accept magic. 

The door opened and Malfoy appeared, his two cronies on either side. "Oh, look, its little Long-in-the- bottom. Who's your friend? Not some stinking Mudblood, I hope."

In a quivering voice, Neville said, "He's no mudblood. I can tell you that." He tried to sound brave, but had clearly failed.

"Hey," Malcolm called out, "This isn't a party. Make like a bunch of trees, and leave."

[That really wasn't a smart thing to say since I don't have any place to run. I guess I'll have just enough time to say a quick prayer before I die.]

Reese made a sudden appearance. "Are you the guy picking on my brother?" he snarled.

"Is Neville your brother?" Malfoy asked, smirking. "If not, then I haven't gotten around to him yet."

Reese leaned into Draco, and poked his finger into Malfoy's chest, "You'll never get around to it if you know what's good for you."

Draco's smirk became wider. "Permit me to introduce myself, Draco Malfoy. And these are Crabbe and Goyle."

Reese nodded appreciatively, "Bodyguards. That shows style."

"Thank you," said Draco, "If you like, I can show you some really fun people to annoy." The four of them left.

"Are those the guys you wanted Reese to meet," Malcolm asked?

"Yes," said Neville, "but it didn't turn out exactly as I had hoped."

A third voice asked, "What didn't turn out." Both boys looked up to see Ginny Weasley. Neville made introductions, as Ginny sat down. She told them, "Harry and Ron are with Hermione, making plans again. They threw me out so they could talk in private." When she asked about the new boy hanging around with Malfoy, Neville told her all he knew. "It was probably my brothers," Ginny said, "They always lose their tickets. I think this is the first time somebody found them, though." She gave Malcolm a warm smile and Neville a wink to show she understood.

Neville felt he had to add, "Not only that, if you have a deck of cards, He'll show you how good he is at magic." Ginny nodded, with the famous Weasley smile coming to her lips.

"I don't have any cards, Malcolm, but I do have a magic wand. Would you like to try it?"

Malcolm became instantly interested. "How does it work?"

Ginny took a small piece of paper and set it on the seat across from her. "This is the first, uh, trick we learn, it's called the floating feather."

Malcolm couldn't help himself, "That isn't a feather."

Ginny giggled at his poor joke, "That's all right, this really isn't a trick." Ginny waved her wand, saying, "Wingardium Leviosa." As she moved the wand, the paper rose and fell, until she let it fall back to its original position. "Here, Give it a try," Ginny said handing over her wand.

With a big grin, Malcolm shouted the magic words and waved the wand. Nothing happened.

"You're saying the words wrong," Ginny explained, "put your emphasis on the second syllable."

"And your wand movement is wrong, too," added Neville. "You need to be firm but restrained in your forward motion than pull back with a bit of a flourish." When Ginny raised her eyebrow, Neville smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Those who can't do, teach," he said.

Malcolm tried a couple more times. When Ginny cast the spell again, he watched very closely. He asked to try again. He concentrated on doing everything right, and IT WORKED.

"This is great," said Malcolm, "How are you doing this?"

"I...I...I'm not," stammered a very surprised Ginny, "you are."

A feeling of disbelief arose inside Malcolm. He tugged the wand one way to watch the paper follow his lead. He tugged the other way, and the paper followed. Neville watched his eyes as Malcolm realized that he was doing magic. Not Illusions, like card tricks and disappearing coins. Real Magic. The paper finally floated back to the seat.

Ginny carefully took her wand out of the dazed boy's hand. Remembering the story Harry had told them, about when he first met Hagrid, she leaned over and whispered, "You're a wizard, Malcolm."

Neville stuck his hand out, and said, "Welcome to Hogwarts."

Malcolm shook his hand, and the motion had a calming effect on him. "I'm a wizard," he said, as though trying to convince himself. "I'm a wizard," he said again, as though trying to figure out what the words meant. The third time he said those words with the understanding that something truly wonderful had happened to him, "I'm a wizard!"

[This is great. I wonder if they can show me how to turn Reese into a frog.]

  
  



	3. It Was A Dark And Stormy Night

Chapter 3: It Was A Dark And Stormy Night 

The rush of finding out he could do magic faded quickly as Malcolm came to understand the jokes that the others had been making. "You've been laughing at me all along," He said in dismay, "I am such a jerk."

Neville patted his shoulder and said, "Sorry, we have, but you had the last laugh, and that was the best one. We were only trying to get you to believe magic was real. We didn't expect this to happen."

Malcolm looked surprised. "You mean that everyone can't do magic."

Neville gave him a brief history of magic, and how the magical community had isolated itself from the non-magical world. When he finished, Ginny added her own comments. "You have to understand our surprise, Malcolm. It's not that common to find people trying to sneak on board this train. What are the odd's that you would find my brothers' tickets, find your way to the train, and end up here, showing yourself to be wizard?"

When she paused, Malcolm said, "Based on the most recent population statistics, 3,968,433,192,060 to 1. That won't be accurate, of course, because of the margin of error in the statistics used, but it shouldn't be more than 3.8 percent off."

Breaking off her stare, Ginny told Malcolm, "I know someone you would really like. Her name is Hermione."

Two red heads appeared in the doorway. "Hi, Neville, Hi, Gin," said one of the heads. "What's up with Harry and them?"

"Another secret meeting. They want to get an early start this year." Ginny nodded her head, adding, "This is Malcolm, he found one of your tickets."

Twins smile lit the two faces. One of them extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Malcolm, I'm George Weasley, and this is my brother, Fred."

"He's lying, you know," said the second twin, "I'm George and he's Fred." They pushed their way in. and sat down.

"So, how does your mom feel about you sneaking off?" Fred asked.

"I think I'm safe for now," Malcolm answered, "She may not even know yet, that Reese and I got off their train."

Fred and George looked at each other, smiling. Asking permission of his brother, George continued, "Yes she does. Two of the porters came to our compartment and asked me and Fred for our tickets." "We told them the truth, we lost them, like we do every year." "And they were really insulting, too. Telling each other it was obvious we were the cause." "It was obvious what they were talking about." "That's why we decided to look around." "Glad to meet you, Malcolm." "Oh, Neville, your grandmother is with them, as well as someone from the ministry."

Malcolm thought it over, and asked how long it was until they train reached Hogsmeade. He than asked, "Fred, uh, George, uh, Heck, how about I call you Gred?"

"I'm Forge, he's Gred," came the reply.

Malcolm shook his head and tried again. "Can you teach me how to turn someone into a frog?"

"Sorry, Malcolm, you need a wand to do that."

Malcolm turned to Ginny and asked, "Can I borrow your wand, again."

Both twins reacted to the word, 'again,' and looked to Ginny. She nodded yes, as she handed over her wand. They turned to Neville who gave them a wide smile. Turning back to Malcolm they said, in unison, "Now all we need is a volunteer."

[Well, it's almost over. When the train stops, Reese and I will be dragged back to Mom and Dad, and I'll be grounded forever. But the great thing is, they won't know I can do magic. I'm going to have a lot of fun with this.]

  
  


"It's Malcolm, isn't it," Lois screamed. "If one of them is capable of magic, it has got to be Malcolm. Reese doesn't have enough brain cells working to even understand the real world."

"Isn't that a bit harsh, Madam," said the ministry aide, "To talk about your own son in such a manner?"

"Harsh," Lois snapped, "Of course, it's harsh. It's no picnic out in the real world, mister, and I'm not going to lie about Reese just to feel better. That will hurt him more in the long run. And if my yelling at him can force him to learn even a little bit more, I'll scream my lungs out." She turned to her husband, and began to cry.

Hal hugged her saying, "It'll be okay honey, the boys know how to take care of themselves. Malcolm is a smart kid, and Reese knows not to pick on anybody bigger than he is."

Lois stopped crying, and looked Hal in the eyes. "That was a lot of help," she said sarcastically, and went back to pacing the floor.

Hal motioned to one of the assistant, who obligingly pulled out his wand and tapped a can of beer, chilling it to 5 degrees Centigrade. "Do you know how hard it is to find cold beer in this country?" he asked rhetorically.

It was hard enough finding out that the children were missing. Then they had to wait until the train they were on arrived at the next station. After that they had to return to London to talk to the police. That was were they first met Mrs. Longbottom, and the man from the Ministry of Magic.

It was hard for Lois, being told about magic, and about the Hogwarts express. That accounted for Reese and Malcolm, but Dewey was still missing. Searches were being made in London, and where any trains may have stopped. But he was still missing. The Ministry of Magic did a magical search of the train when they realized they had two extra passengers, but they only discovered there was only one muggle.

"Don't worry, Madam," the aide assured her, "because of a search being made in the area for an escaped prisoner, the train is to be stopped. It is a standard precaution, and there is nothing to worry about, but we have informed the people in charge. When they search the train, they will look for your two sons as well."

"And what happens then," asked Hal, holding out another can to be chilled.

"Assuming we find the youngest son, and that none of the boys has any magical abilities we will simply erase your current memory and replace them with pleasant thoughts."

"No, you won't, " snarled Lois, "I want a reason to punish those boys." Pushing her face right into that of the aide, she added. "And you had better make it a good one, Mister."

Mrs. Longbottom let out a hearty laugh. When Lois turned to look at her, she smiled and said, "I told Reese that you were a wise woman. It is refreshing to see that you care so much for your children." She walked over to Lois, and handed her a cup of tea. "This is the hard part, dear. We have no choice but to wait."

To everyone's surprise, Lois went along when Gran led her to a chair. She sipped the tea, gratefully. Relaxing a little, Lois asked, "This tea is wonderful. What did you put in it?"

Gran smiled and said, "It is a potion from a recipe my mother handed down to me. I call it Peppermint Schnapps." The two ladies laughed, and Gran turned the conversation to a more serious tone.

"If your son has a talent for magic, he will need to be trained in it, even if it is just for his own safety. I've taken the liberty of asking some friends of mine to make inquiries with our American cousins, as to how they manage such things. I've also asked that Hogwarts school be notified about a possible surprise guest." Lois listened carefully as Gran laid out the options for her. Planning helped her stay in control, since there was nothing she could actually do. Gran's last words were a surprise to her and helped her even more. "I was fairly good in Divinity in school, and I have a feeling, just a feeling mind you, that your youngest boy is fine, and will show himself at the opportune time."

Lois placed her hand on Gran's and said, "I trust your feelings more than I trust any facts he gives me." The last words were said with a nod toward the ministry aide.

  
  
  
  


"We're slowing down," said Ginny, "but the station is still a half-hour away." Ginny and Neville excused themselves to go look for Harry and the others. Fred and George had told Malcolm they would be right back with some spare robes so that he could look the part when they got to the school. "After all," said George, "since you can do magic, they might let you in." That was why Malcolm stayed in the compartment by himself. As the train stopped, he tried to look out the window. Then the lights went out.

Malcolm felt his way to the compartment door and slid it open. He could see nothing in the darkness. Suddenly a dark form bumped into him, knocking him back onto the seat. The dark form proceeded to fall on the floor of the compartment with a loud thump.

"That hurt," said a voice, as the boy fumbled for his wand. "Lumos," he called out, and a soft light filled the small space. Draco Malfoy found himself looking right at Malcolm's knee. Lifting himself off the floor, he sat in the opposite seat. "You're that Yank's brother, aren't you." Malcolm nodded. "Please tell me you are not as bad as he is. He is so obnoxious. I had to get away from him. He is incredibly two-dimensional."

Malcolm laughed, "For Reese, that would be compliment."

Draco sat up in disgust. "You actually mean that. What kind of people are you Americans, anyway?"

"Look, buddy," Malcolm retorted, "You're the one who came by with your two goons and started to harass me and Neville, making fun of his name, just like my brother did. Then you called me a mudblood, whatever that is."

"That explains it," Draco shouted with a gleam in his eye, "The two of you snuck on board this train. You're both muggles."

"Oh S***," Malcolm yelled backing up to the window.

"Tut Tut, dear boy, to use such language," Malfoy admonished.

"I'll be as polite as you want," said Malcolm fearfully, "just tell me what that thing is."

Draco had already begun to feel the coldness, and knew what he was going to see. In the doorway stood a dementor. Draco made a quick imitation of Malcolm, including use of the S-word. "It's a dementor," Draco hissed, "They bring out your worst memories and kill you with misery."

[This is terrible. That thing made a noise just like that puppy did when mom accidentally ran over its mother. Oh my God, why did I think of that, that's a horrible thought. I'll try thinking about nice things. Like the time I bumped into that lady with the crutches, and she ended up breaking her other leg. On second thought, maybe I shouldn't think of anything.]

The dementor looked the two boys over, then turned and continued down the train. In the silence they could hear Reese talking. Both boys looked out of the compartment to see the dementor standing behind him, while he talked to a terrified Goyle. "And I just remembered this one. This is great. You'll get a kick out of this. We're walking down the street, me and my brother, and this lady walks by on crutches..."

"What's wrong with him," Malcolm asked.

"Muggles can't see dementors," Draco answered, "Your brother has no idea that it is there." Draco looked at the other boy, and said, "Do you know what a muggle is? That is the name we use for someone who can't do magic. Your brother is obviously a muggle, but you are not. How long have you known you could do magic?"

"About an hour," Malcolm answered, "This girl, Ginny, tried to show me a magic trick, and when I tried it, it worked."

"Floating Feather?" asked Malfoy. "It is one of the easier ones, but a good start."

Wizards with lights on their wands began coming down the corridor, "Back in your compartments," they yelled. One of them pushed the two boys inside, closing the door on them. They heard someone shout, "come along, you two, you don't belong here." Reese and Goyle could be heard complaining as they were rushed of the train. Fortunately, the dementor went with them.

Draco gave a wicked grin as the lights came on, and the train began to move again. "Well, my friend, it looks like you will be going to Hogwarts after all. It will be a while before they find out that Goyle is the wrong person. Do you need anything?"

"You're going to help me," Malcolm asked, "what's the catch?"

Draco put his arm on Malcolm's shoulder. "It is simple, really. I have a reputation to maintain. Everyone should know that I was not affected by the dementors at all. The testimony of an unbiased eyewitness would help quite nicely."

Without hesitation, Malcolm said, "Your bravery was an inspiration to me, and I will always be grateful to you for the help you gave me."

[This part I understand. This is Reese if Reese had a brain. Better yet, this is the type of thing Francis would do.]

"Also, I'm going to need a hat."

"I'll send one around promptly. Deal?"

"Deal."

The two boys shook hands. "One more thing," Draco added, "If you get that far, and you are put in Slytherin, I will stand by you. There is something about you that I like." Then Draco left to cause more misery on other people.

  
  


"Lois, dear, We've had some news," Gran said to the napping woman. "They found Reese, but the boy with him was one of the students."

"Reese is safe," his mother said, "Good, that way I won't feel so bad when I kill him." Lois looked at the older woman and asked, "Is there anything about the other boys?"

"Not yet, but they will turn up," Gran assured her. "A few other things have happened though. My friends received word from the Americas about Malcolm. He is on their list, and he was scheduled to receive an invitation to the Brentwood Academy, but they never received a reply. It would have arrived on his eleventh birthday, or on mid-summers day."

Lois thought hard, but the name didn't ring any bells. "Hal," she called out, "Have you ever heard of the Brentwood Academy?"

"Yeah, they sent Malcolm a letter on his birthday."

Lois got up off the couch and walked over to Hal. "And?" She asked in her most polite threatening voice.

Hal looked around nervously, planning possible escape routes. "Well, dear, we were getting ready to start this trip, so I left it on his dresser, I think."

"Hal, this is important, what happened to the letter?"

"Lois, honey, you know I love you," Hal said as he squirmed in place. Suddenly his face brightened, "Now I remember. When he went to say goodbye to Stevie, I saw he hadn't opened it. So I put it in the car. I stuck it above that sun visor thing, whatever it is." Slumping in defeat, he said, "It's in the car. Do you want me to go get it?"

Lois had to laugh. All of this trouble, because Malcolm did not bother opening his mail. She would be fair about it. Reese would be grounded for life. Malcolm, however, would be made to suffer with ever breath she took.

Gran took charge of the situation. Since Goyle had to be returned to Hogwarts, Reese was being taken along. She decided it would be best for everyone to go to the school. When the ministry aide began to quote regulations, she lashed out at him, "Shame on you, Sir. This woman has two children missing and one only recently found. Do you dare to quote regulations in a situation like this? Then you, Sir, may tell this poor distraught woman that she may do nothing to find those poor souls."

The aide looked over at the poor distraught woman, who looked as though she would distraught his head off if he said the wrong thing. Giving in, he went to get the floo powder that Gran had requested.

As they waited, she explained to Lois and Hal how the powder worked. They would arrive at Hogsmeade Tavern, where a coach would be waiting to take them to the school. Hal perked up at the word, tavern, and lost interest again at the word, school. When the aide returned, the four of them went to the fireplace. As instructed, Lois threw in a pinch of floo powder, carefully pronounced the destination, and pushed Hal into the flames. She followed him quickly, with Gran and the aide right behind her.

Hal looked around, listened to the music playing and said, "You know, Honey, this is a nice place."

"You are coming with us up to the school," Lois said, "I don't want to argue about it."

"Oh, I know dear," whined Hal, "but do you really need me at the school. You know how terrible I am at PTA meetings."

The aide, seeing a way out of his dilemma, said, "I will be more than happy to keep an eye on him, Madam, if it would be of help."

Giving up on a losing battle, Lois shouted, "Ok, stay, don't worry that Malcolm is missing. Don't worry that he might be dead. Don't worry that your own flesh and blood may be in mortal danger." As she turned around to leave, Hal took a victory stance, while the relieved aide ordered two butterbears.

"You know," Hal told the ministry aide, "We're lucky she's so worried about the kids. You should see her when she's in a bad mood. Here, let me get the next round."

"Nonsense," said the aide, "this falls under ministry business. I'm putting the entire thing on a voucher."

Hal nodded his head and asked, "What kind of food do they have here?"

  
  
  
  



	4. These Hallowed Halls

A/N: To Em - I thought I explained in the story, that Reese was being overly obnoxious and insulting. If you have ever watched Malcolm In The Middle you would know the type of character he is. I did not mean for him to offend, only to be offensive. (Does that make any sense.) As for the language, I blame it on that danged culture gap. Churchill once said we were two nations separated by a common language.  
  
  


Chapter 4: These Hallowed Halls 

As the train pulled into the station, Malcolm was adjusting his robe so that it fit properly. He appreciated the robes and the proper clothes. The jeans and T-shirt look did not go over too well, when it came to fitting in. On the other hand, He felt like he was getting dressed for school. "Fred," he asked, "is this really necessary. After all, my mom's just going to take me home when I get off the train."

Fred grinned at the boy's comment, "Only if she spots you. If you can get to the boats with the first years, then you can be at the school before they catch you. Or you could stay on the train for the ride back to London."

[I've heard this logic before. On the other hand, Mom's going to kill me anyway, so what do I have to lose.]

"Sorry we can't do anything about the hat," George said.

"That's all right," Malcolm replied, "I'm having one delivered."

On cue, A blond haired student walked into the compartment, saw the twins, and froze. "I have a hat for Malcolm," he said nervously, handing over the wizard's hat. Fred thanked the boy and offered him some toffee. The look of fear turned to one of horror as he looked at the proffered candy. He turned and fled without saying another word.

"I think he knows us," said Fred.

"At least our reputation," George said, adding, "Isn't he a second year in Slytherin."

"Yes he is, but why would a Slytherin help someone like Malcolm."

As the twins looked his way, Malcolm put on his best smile. "You wouldn't believe how Draco Malfoy stood up to those dementors," He said boastfully. After they stopped laughing, the twins congratulated Malcolm, and put the hat on his head.

"You look smashing, Malcolm, but you're too nervous. Here's a toffee to help you relax."

"Not enough time for that," George said, "just put it in your pocket for later, Malcolm." Malcolm nodded, although he was confused by the last statement.

"By the way," Fred told him, " if you get that far, say you want to be in Gryffindor."

The three joined the other students who were already leaving the train. Once outside, the twins pointed Malcolm toward the lake, where the giant, Hagrid was calling for all the new students. As the twins left, Ginny came running up.

"Malcolm, I just wanted to wish you luck."She gave him a peck on the cheek, and left him with a warning, "If my brothers offer you anything, don't take it. Promise." Malcolm promised, and she ran off to the waiting coaches. He turned and continued walking toward the lake.

[I'm looking around and you know how I feel. Like its Halloween and we all decide to wear the same costume.]

"Yer havin' any problems there, lad," Hagrid said to Malcolm, "Most of the other first years are in the boats already."

Malcolm started to back away, "No, Sir, I was just going."

Hagrid reached out and grabbed him, pulling him toward the lake, "well, yer goin' the wrong way. Here yer go." Hagrid picked Malcolm up and placed him in one of the boats. "This is Malcolm," he told the other students, "He's from the States, he is." Hagrid got into his own boat, and they began to sail across the lake.

"How did he know my name," Malcolm asked out loud.

One of the other students answered in a solemn voice, "I think it has something to do with magic."  
  


Draco was fairly happy, he had just managed to insult Harry Potter. Then he turned around and saw Goyle standing there with Crabbe. He stopped in his tracks. That meant that Reese was around. He hoped to be wrong, but then he heard the annoying voice of that American muggle. He even heard an audible grown from several of the other students. Just as he turned back, wand at the ready, someone else shouted Petrificus Totalus. Reese had gone rigid and fallen over, much to the cheers of the nearby students. Malfoy looked over and saw Ron Weasley holding his wand.

"Damn you, Weasel. I wanted to do that."

Ron grinned, saying "you can do it next time."

Professor Lupin appeared out of the carriage Harry was in. "All right, who did that?" He shouted. Ron raised his hand. Lupin thought for a minute, remembering what he knew of both perpetrator and victim. After a pause, he said, "10 points, Gryffindor," and went back to help Harry from the coach. (Harry had fainted after meeting the dementors.)

"What do you think of that, Malfoy," Ron said mockingly, "Ten points, and the school year hasn't even begun."

"I'll tell you, Weasel," Draco replied, evenly, "If it had been me, I would have given you 20." He then turned his back on the red-haired boy, feeling pleased. He had just insulted Ron Weasley with a compliment. "I am getting good at this," he said to himself.  
  


Malcolm climbed out of the boat, and walked over to Hagrid. "How did you know my name," he asked.

"Yer mom told us, lad, now up the stairs with yer. Yer want to be sorted, don't yer." With that, Hagrid turned the boy around and rushed him along. At the top of the stairs he called out, "Here he is, Professor Flitwick, the last of the first-years."  
  
  
  


"What did you call me?" yelled Lois at the Slytherin Prefect, who was doing pushups on the floor.

"I called you a mudblood, Madam." the prefect said, gasping.

"Is it a good word?"

"No, it is not, Madam."

"Are you going to use it again?"

"No, I am not. Madam."

"Good," said Lois, "ten more and you can sit down again." As she turned away, a student at another table began to clap. "Don't you dare," Lois shouted, stopping the boy before his hands ever came together. "You don't laugh at someone else's misfortune. Would you want him laughing at you?"

"No, Madam," the student quickly answered.

"Good, then you don't mind standing for the rest of the night." Fearfully, the boy obliged. When Lois left the Great Hall, no one said a word.

Returning to Mrs. Longbottom, she said, "I didn't seem him in there."

"Don't worry, Lois," Gran assured her, "Malcolm is most likely with the new students. They bring them across the lake. It is slower, but it gives them a wonderful first impression of the school."

Lois pointed to Reese, whose stiff body was hanging from an empty wall sconce. "He's not in pain or anything, is he."

Gran assured her that was not the case. "He can't feel a thing, it's as though he were asleep. When the spell is taken off, he won't even remember it. Would you like me to remove the spell, now."

Lois waved her offer away, "Don't bother, it'll fade away in a couple of days, so he's not going to miss any school. That, and I could use a break. Can you have him delivered?"

The new students began to file past the two women, giving them curious looks while Professor Flitwick ushered them all in a line to prepare them for their entrance into the Great Hall. Lois looked anxiously at every face. Then Hagrid's voice was heard announcing the last student, and Malcolm was pushed through the front door.

He looked up at his mother, "I can explain everything. It was Reese." Lois pointed, and Malcolm turned to look at his brother.

[I am dead. I am very dead. Reese looks good.]

Professor Flitwick called for all the new students to get in line. "Well," said Lois, "are you getting in line?"

"What?"

"You heard me, Malcolm," Lois said in a calm voice. "Are you going to get in line? It's your choice. You can stay here, and go to school, or you can come home with us."

Malcolm was confused, "But, Mom, aren't you mad at me?

Lois smiled, "Of course I'm mad at you, honey, and you will be punished, but that isn't important right now. You have a gift, and you need to learn how to use it. You know Mrs. Longbottom?"

"Call me Gran, dear," she said as she extended her hand to Malcolm, "It is a pleasure to see you again."

Lois continued, "With Gran's help, the school has offered you a place. You can stay here if you want." Malcolm nodded, letting the information sink in. "You should know, Malcolm, if you leave with us, you will probably be going away to school, anyway. But you will be closer to home."

"Mom, if I'm not going to be at home, then distance doesn't mean anything. If I have to go someplace, I'd like to stay here. I mean, I already know people here." His voice trailed off. He reached up and hugged his mother, "I'll miss you, Mom."

"Don't worry, Malcolm, we'll see you at Christmas and for the summers, and we'll always write. One good thing is, no phones. After Francis, I can't afford a higher bill." On a final note, she said, "you look good in that outfit."

"Really?" Malcolm asked.

"The truth is, Malcolm, you look like Halloween, and everyone is wearing the same costume." They each smiled at the other, and Malcolm walked off to join the line.

"Malcolm," Gran called out, "wave."

Malcolm saw the camera, smiled, and waved.

"Stand here, Malcolm," Professor Flitwick said, showing him his place in line. "To let you know, young man, for what you did, you are to spend one week of detention with each teacher that you have this year. The first week will be with the teacher in charge of whichever house you get into. If you are unfortunate enough to get into Ravenclaw, that will mean me. Do you understand."

Malcolm swallowed hard, "Yes, sir."

" That is 'Yes, Professor,' we do not tolerate lassitude around here."

"Yes, Professor." he responded.

"Good," the Professor said, "now, do you have everything, robes, hat, wand. Where's your wand?"

"I don't have one," came the reply.

"Here," said a third voice, "my friend says you can use his until you get your own." 

"Dewey! What are you doing here," Malcolm asked in surprise.

"Mom told me to stay with you and Reese. I hid so you wouldn't ditch me again."

"You would ditch your own brother?" asked a shocked student.

"Of course I would."

[What kind of stupid question is that?]

"Thanks, Dewey," Malcolm said, taking the wand, "I owe you one."

"That's all right," Dewey replied, "Now I have my own room." He turned from Malcolm to look at Reese, turned back to Malcolm, and smiled.

Lois came over and tool Dewey's hand, saying "It's time to go, say goodbye."

Dewey waved goodbye to his brothers, then waved to a blank wall and said, "Goodbye, Peeves." As they were leaving, Dewey asked, "Mom, are you mad at me?"

Lois looked down and said, "No, Dewey. In fact, I'm glad to see you finally have an imaginary friend who isn't named Tony."

[This is it. I'm off to face the future. I'm going on a great adventure. I'm going to learn magic. And I'm going to start it all with ten weeks of detention. I'm going to love this place.]

As the student entered the Great Hall, Malcolm couldn't control himself. He began singing loudly, "I'm off to be a wizard....."


	5. Making New Friends

Chapter 5: Making New Friends 

Malcolm stopped singing shortly after entering the Great Hall. It wasn't so much everyone telling him to be quiet, as it was the Hall itself. Candles floated in midair, ghosts were flying everywhere, and the ceiling was a perfect reflection of the night sky. Malcolm stared at everything, especially the ceiling. He started looking around the tables as Professor Flitwick began to call names. Draco saw him and returned a vigorous wave. Malcolm then spotted the twins and Neville, who also responded. Ginny gave him a weak wave, glancing at Malfoy. Malcolm's gaze slid back to the ceiling.

"Malcolm," Professor Flitwick called, "if you are finished staring at everything, you can try the Sorting Hat on. I won't be calling your name again. The embarrassed boy took his eyes off the ceiling, and walked over to sit on the stool. The Hat was placed on his head, and he heard a voice speak.

"You're an unusual case. A last minute addition. Well, let us see what you have in you. Hard working Hufflepuff won't do, but you would be good in Ravenclaw. You are smart enough, and you have plenty of ambition as well. Slytherin would be a good choice. You also have a friend there as well. No, it would be best we put you in Gryffindor. You will cause less trouble there."

"Wait a minute," Malcolm said, "first you made that crack about Hard Working Hufflepuff, but what's this about causing less trouble."

"GRYFFINDOR," the Hat called out, adding in a low voice, "you have potential, boy. You only have to realize it."

Professor Flitwick lifted the Hat of his head, and Malcolm dutifully headed toward the cheering Gryffindors. Glancing over, he noticed the Slytherins were cheering with equal intensity. He made a mental note to ask Draco about that when he had the chance.

As he neared the table, a second-year student stood up, and a camera flashed in his face. Half blinded, he felt a hand grab his, and a voice said, "Welcome to Gryffindor, Malcolm. I'm Colin Creevey, Gryffindor's unofficial photographer. I'm taking pictures of all the first-years who make it into our house." Helping Malcolm to sit down, he continued, "You are in the best house, of course. We have Harry Potter. We've also won the house cup two years running. And now, we have the first American ever to attend Hogwarts."

"GRYFFINDOR," the Hat shouted, and Colin left to assault the newcomer.

"I'm still blind," muttered Malcolm, as he tried to blink away the red and blue spots in front of him.

"It will clear up shortly," said a solemn voice, "just be careful. I think he's going to be taking more pictures of us."

"Great," Malcolm said. "Wait, you sound familiar. Weren't we in the same boat?"

"Yes," said the boy solemnly. "You wondered how he knew your name was Malcolm."

"Yeah, my mom told him. And you are?"

"Call me Ishmael," the solemn boy said.

"Whale, Moby I will, and Moby I won't," Malcolm said with a grin.

"Excuse me?" the boy asked in a solemn tone.

"Uh," said Malcolm, "you said, 'call me Ishmael,' which is the first line of Moby Dick, a book by Herman Melville. I was making a joke by saying 'MOBY' instead of 'maybe.' And since Moby Dick is a whale that is why I said 'Whale' instead of 'well.' I thought it would be funny."

"Oh, I see," the boy uttered solemnly, "It is what you would call, 'a muggle thing.'"

Malcolm stared at the boy. "Please tell me that you aren't serious."

The boy laughed solemnly. "Malcolm, if you are going to make it here, you have to learn about the English sense of humor. It tends to be dry, to contrast with the weather."

"Thanks for telling me that," Malcolm replied with a laugh of his own, "So, what is your name?"

"Ishmael," said the boy in solemn embarrassment, "my mother really liked that book"

"Okaaay," said Malcolm, thinking. "What's your middle name?"

"Ipswich. It's my mother's maiden name," he solemnly noted.

"Why don't you do what my friend did?" Malcolm suggested, "He had a name he didn't like, so he used initials."

"Yes, brilliant idea," the boy said in a solemnly sarcastical tone, "I will tell everyone to call me 'I, I.' It will fit perfectly with my last name, Captain."

Malcolm looked at him in horror. Controlling an urge to laugh, Malcolm added, "They don't have to be your initials. Just pick a couple that you like, and introduce yourself that way."

The boy thought solemnly for a bit, and added, "I like the idea. I can even forget about being solemn all the time, just to keep people from laughing at me. You are a good friend to have, Malcolm."

The boys paused as the headmaster called for their attention. To their disgust, they learned that the dementors would be guarding the school. Their disgust increased as Dumbledore described the nature of these creatures. The Professor went on to introduce two new teachers, a man named Lupin, and Hagrid, the giant that had picked Malcolm up and carried him to a boat.

"No" groaned the boy with solemn implications, "that is going to be a terrible class."

"What do you mean?" asked Malcolm.

"Remember when you bought your school supplies?"

"I haven't bought any supplies. I was a last minute addition to the enrollment list."

The boy gave him a wide smile, and solemnly refused to say anything else. Nor was he expected to. Food suddenly appeared in front of them, and conversation was lost while everyone stuffed themselves. Malcolm tried a little bit of everything, trying to ignore the occasional camera flashes.

"Is it like this every day?" Malcolm had to ask.

"Three times a day," a soft voice said. Malcolm looked up, across the table. A blue-eyed girl with shoulder length brown hair eyed him just as Colin's camera flashed again.

"Good shot, Malcolm," Colin called out, "And now one more of you, Amber."

The brown haired girl looked at Malcolm with a pleading look.

"Colin," he called out, remembering Ginny's warning, "I've got one piece left. Would you like some toffee? My mom made it."  
  


"That was something," Fred said to Malcolm as they walked with the first-years to the Gryffindor common room.

"I'll say," George added, "I think you're the first person ever to get detention at the welcoming feast."

"You say that like it's a good thing," Malcolm said with a sigh. "At this rate, I'll have to go to summer school to finish all my detentions."

"My mother," the solemn boy said, "always told me to be proud of my accomplishments."

"There's your problem, lack of pride, " Malcolm replied testily. "My mother always tells me to do what she says."

"Fred Weasley," said George, introducing himself to the solemn boy.

"E.J.," the boy replied, without any sign of being solemn. He then added, "Weren't you George earlier today?"

"I better warn you, Fred," George said, "this is one of the smart ones."

"Quiet," said Fred to all the first-years, "Lord Percy is about to speak."

"Is he royal?" asked Malcolm.

"No," said Fred, "But the pain he causes is."

"Coming through, Coming through," the head boy called out, leading the first years through the crowd of students. "The new password is Fortuna Major."

As he said those words, the portrait of the Fat Lady opened up to reveal the entrance to Gryffindor. Entering the common room, Malcolm began staring again.

"I feel like I'm in the middle of a Gothic movie," he told EJ. "I keep waiting for Christopher Lee to appear."

"You are wrong," EJ told him, "You should be thinking of Camelot."

"The movie?" asked Malcolm. "So I should expect Richard Harris instead. I couldn't picture him in this place, unless he had a beard as long as Dumbledore's."

Both boys laughed at the thought as they followed Percy to their new dormitory, their home at school for the next seven years.

As they lay in their beds, trying to sleep, Malcolm asked his friend, "Hagrid told me he was taking me to Diagon Alley, tomorrow morning. What's it like?"

"I've only been there once," EJ said, "My parents are muggles, just as yours are. It was like walking through a Renaissance Fair designed by Monty Python.

"It should be interesting." Malcolm lay in bed thinking, then asked, "How did you decide I was your friend."

"Why didn't you laugh at my name. Isn't that what you usually do. Malcolm, when did you decide that I was your friend."

[He's right. I never thought to make fun of his name. I must be losing my touch.]

"I should apologize," Malcolm said, surprising himself, "for that remark about lack of pride."

"Don't worry about it. You were upset, and it WAS funny."

EJ looked over to see Malcolm's reaction but there wasn't any. His eyes were closed and he was lightly snoring. EJ closed his eyes and joined his friend in sleep.  
  


Malcolm got up and dressed for his first day of school. Since he was a first-year, he had a half day in the afternoon, leaving him plenty of time to do his shopping. He hurried down to breakfast, to find Hagrid talking to some third year students. He also saw that Hagrid was wearing a moleskin overcoat, and swinging a dead polecat. Then Hagrid turned around, and saw him.

"Malcolm, are yer ready? Or do yer need to eat, first?"

"I'm not hungry," Malcolm said, eyeing the dead polecat.

Hagrid gave him a pat on the head as a form of greeting, and laughed as Malcolm staggered from the blow. "We'll be off, then," he said, leading Malcolm to his hut.

As they walked out of the Great Hall, Peeves flew up to Malcolm. He said, "Excuse Me," then reached into Malcolm's pocket and pulled out a wand. "Thank You," he said, and flew off.

"The thievin' imp stole yer wand," Hagrid said, fuming, I'll have to tell Dumbledore abou' this."

"No he didn't," Malcolm explained, "It was his wand. He lent it to me."

"Are yer friends with Peeves," Hagrid asked in surprise.

"No, my brother is."

"Not tha' lout, Reese. I don't believe it."

"No, my other brother, Dewey."

Hagrid stared at Malcolm, his look begging an explanation. All Malcolm could do was shrug his shoulders. Hagrid led the boy to his hut, muttering his confusion.

"We'll be using a portkey," Hagrid explained. "This one's set to take us to Diagon Alley when we both touch it, and return us to my hut when we touch it again, do yer understand?"

"Yes, sir," Malcolm said, "but I'm curious, how does it work?"

"Why, it works by magic, lad," Hagrid told him. Then he eyed Malcolm suspiciously, and asked, "How did yer think it worked?"

"By magic," the boy answered weakly.

"Then yer would have been righ', lad," the giant said brightly. "Always trust yer instincts, I always say."

"Excuse me, sir," Malcolm said, in a second effort, "What kind of magic do they use to make the portkey work?"

"Have no idea," Hagrid answered with a grin, "I'm professor for Care of Magical Creatures. Try asking Professor Flitwick. He teaches Charms."

Malcolm shook his head in despair. Hagrid laughed at that. "Lighten up, lad. I was only having fun with yer. I know yer smart, but yer can't learn everything in one day. Today, yer can learn wha' i's like to use a portkey. Tomorrow, we'll start teachin' yer to make one." With that he held out his hand to Malcolm, and they shook.

Hagrid dropped the polecat into a corral which held a hippogriff. Malcolm stood and stared at the animal while Hagrid went to get the portkey. The hippogriff looked at Malcolm and nodded to him. Malcolm politely nodded back, as Hagrid came out of his hut.

"Righ', lad," he said, "we're off to Diagon Alley." With that, he held out a small frying pan, which Malcolm hesitantly grabbed hold of. Then they both disappeared.


	6. Diagon Alley

A/N I want to thank everyone who has been reading this. My ego is floating along the ceiling and won't come down. I took note of the comments that Ariana Delralte made, and realized she was right. The conversation did not run smoothly, and I should have caught it. My thanks for pointing that out, and I will repost the chapter with what I hope is a smoother passage.

  
  
Chapter 6: Diagon Alley 

Mr. Ollivander stayed in the wings as the young boy entered the shop. It appeared to be the American child that Albus Dumbledore had owled him about. Curiosity kept him in the shadows as he watched the boy eyeing the boxes with interest. The boy called out on two occasions, but the wand seller bided his time.

It came as no surprise that the boy decided to look in the boxes. One box was arbitrarily selected and opened. The surprise came when the boy pulled the wand out, and waved it, shouting, "Abra Cadabra." The wand let out a shower of Gold and Scarlet sparks. 'My, My,' thought Ollivander, 'A wand on the first try, that hasn't happened in 182 years.'

With a hint of mischief in his pale eyes, he stepped into the shop proper, saying, "A good choice. Maple. Eleven inches long. It has as its core, a dragon heartstring. Excellent General Purpose Wand. Of course, the wand chooses the wizard." Pausing, he added. "Do you want me to put your wand back in its box, or will you be carrying it with you?"

The boy stared at him, as if in shock. Controlling his urge to laugh, Mr. Ollivander smiled politely, saying, "Malcolm, it is rude not to answer when you are asked a question."

"How, How did you know my name?" the boy asked.

"Your headmaster sent a message, Malcolm, that I would have a foreign student visiting my shop. When I saw Hagrid drop you off, I knew who you were. Now, about your wand. Tell me, why were you surprised at what it did, as opposed to why it did anything? Whose wand have you used before?"

"Ginny Weasley, Sir," the boy replied nervously, "She showed me a trick to do, on the train."

'Curious boy,' thought Ollivander, 'to go up on the train but not to know about his supplies. I must ask Albus about this one.' Gazing into the air, he said, "I remember her from last year, Virginia Weasley, a similar wand to yours, but made of ash. That means you are attuned to the heartstring, a good sign in a wizard. It was good fortune that you found your wand so quickly."

"I guess I was lucky at that," Malcolm said.

"Nonsense, Malcolm, luck has nothing to do with it," Ollivander said. "You would have ended up with that wand if it had been the first or the fifth one you tried. I told you already, the wand chooses."

Malcolm nodded in thought as the door opened. A dowdy looking woman with an overly plump daughter came barging into the shop. Ignoring Malcolm, she immediately walked up to the counter.

"Mr. Ollivander, this is important. My daughter needs a new wand, and quickly. She has her train to catch."

"Mummy," the fat girl said, "that boy is staring at me."

"Don't even think of it," the woman said, turning on Malcolm. "My daughter is too good for your sort." Turning back to the wand seller, she added, "Mr. Ollivander, teach your stock boy some manners."

"My assistant was only taking your daughters measurements for her new wand," Ollivander said, with a wink at Malcolm. "He has an excellent eye, and is usually very keen on selecting a proper wand."

"Humph," the dowdy woman said.

Because it annoyed the lady, Malcolm acted the part of Mr. Ollivander's assistant, fetching boxes and getting bits of lessons on the various woods used to make wands, and the different types of cores. At the end of an hour he had learned enough to know the best uses of a wand. Lights woods seemed best for charms, and Unicorn hair was good for transfiguration, but there would always be exceptions and variations because of length, and the grain of the wood. Malcolm also learned that he WAS lucky to find his wand, because, after all this time, the fat girl still hadn't found hers. Finally, he heard Mr. Ollivander shout, "There it is, the perfect wand. That will be 7 Galleons, 8 sickles, please."

As the mother and daughter left, Mr. Ollivander called to Malcolm. "Thank you, my boy, for helping out. You could have left at any time, you know."

Malcolm beamed at the compliment, "Thanks, but I really had a great time, and I learned some stuff, too. Plus you helped me out when that girl caught me staring."

"I understand, Malcolm. I stared at her as well, when I first saw her. I could not believe anyone would let a girl that young get that big. I just pity that wand. I know she broke her last one by sitting on it, and she'll do the same to this one before the year is out."

Malcolm laughed at a thought, "You said that the wand chooses the wizard. What kind of wand would choose her." The shop keeper smiled in irony at the thought, but then he noticed the boy become serious again. "Mr. Ollivander," he asked earnestly, "What kind of wand would choose me?"

'I was right to watch him,' Ollivander thought, 'he is a young boy that bears watching.'

  
  


Malcolm left the shop, his new wand in his pocket. Hagrid had picked up his supplies and robes (at the second hand shop). They were headed to the bookstore as their last stop, Hagrid rushing the boy along. As they passed the bank, Malcolm found himself staring at a familiar looking man in spotless robes. The man spotted him looking, then saw Hagrid and lightly sneered.

"You should teach your students better manners, Hagrid," the man said, showing his dislike of the giant.

"It's my fault," Malcolm said testily, "I thought you looked familiar, that's all."

"You're Malcolm," the man said, a grin coming to his face. "You have to be. Draco said there was an American student there." Malcolm's eyes lit up, and Hagrid's frown deepened. "Permit me to introduce myself, I am Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy. Draco owled me last night, and said you were a boy to watch." Malcolm took Lucius's extended hand before Hagrid could stop him.

"Malcolm," Hagrid said, warily, "yer should be careful who yer deal with."

"Tut, Tut, Hagrid," Lucius replied, "I could tell him the same thing about you."

[This is great. These two can't stand each other. If things work out, I could get something out of all of this. All I have to do is be nice to both of them. Maybe I should be a little nicer to the rich guy. Watch this move.]

"Maybe it would be best, Sir," said Malcolm sadly, "if I were to go. It was nice meeting you."

"Good day, Mr. Malfoy," Hagrid said, and led Malcolm away.

[Now, let's see what I get out of this.....Three. Two. One.]

"Hagrid," Lucius called out in wry amusement, "are those used robes for the boy. Do you actually intend to dress him like that."

[Damn. It's clothes.]

Hagrid stopped in his tracks, and turned with a snarl, "there's nothin' wrong with these clothes."

"And there is nothing right about pinching Galleons," Lucius said as he walked forward. Taking Malcolm by the shoulder, he said to Hagrid, "Why don't I take him to Madam Malkin's for proper robes, while you return those rags." Sneering openly, he added, "It will be my contribution to the school, or do you object to my being nice to someone?"

As Hagrid sputtered, Malcolm interrupted. "That's a good idea, Hagrid, about returning the robes. It will save the school some money."

Lucius beamed down at the boy's snide remark, while Hagrid stared at the boy's smirk, and the wink the boy gave. "Yer right, lad," Hagrid said warily, "I'll return these and meet yer at Flourish and Blotts. And I hate to say this, Malfoy, but Thank yer, on the school's behalf."

Malcolm smiled up at Lucius, who grinned in triumph. "Nasty man," Lucius said, "I understand they made him a professor. Ridiculous." Leading the boy to Madam Malkin's, Lucius added, "You played that rather well, Malcolm. I was pleased with the way you tried to manipulate me. You have obviously had practice."

"Just with my relatives, Sir. I have two uncles who always want to be the favorite. I can usually count on a couple of twenty's whenever the two get together."

"And all I am giving you are clothes," Lucius added with a laugh. "Please remember this Malcolm, clothes make the wizard. If you look like you fit in, then you do fit in."

"Yes, Sir," Malcolm said politely, "but I need to ask you a question. If Draco told you all about me, then you know my parents are muggles. He told me about how your family feels. So, why are you being nice?"

Lucius smiled at the question. "Draco was right, Malcolm, there is something about you. I'll be honest with you. I was being nice to you to irritate that overgrown child you were with. But there is another reason, now that I know you a little. The Malfoys are, to be modest, one of the oldest wizarding families. We don't know how old because we go back that far. However, at one point, there was a first Malfoy.

"It could be, Malcolm, that you are the first of what will some day be an old and distinguished family. You have the proper attitude. If I am right, then people will note that our families have been close from the beginning. If I am wrong, I will drop you like a hot potato, as I believe the expression goes. Either way, it is worth a small investment. Play your cards right, and you will find me a generous benefactor."

[I can do that. I mean, I'm already friends with his son. Plus he 'likes' the fact that I tried to manipulate him. Now all I have to do is be me. I love magic.]

They entered the shop, and Lucius made the arrangements with the clerk. He bid Malcolm farewell and good luck, as he left to attend to business. Fifteen minutes later, Malcolm was out the door, with the assurance that his robes would be at the school in time for his first class.

  
  


Malcolm entered the book store only to be dragged aside by one of the clerks.

"Be careful, young man," the clerk said, "One of the books has gotten loose."

[Okay, that made sense.]

"What do you mean, the book has gotten loose?"

The clerk stared at Malcolm when he spoke. "Your accent. You're the American boy we needed to get the books for. It's your fault."

"I just got here," Malcolm complained, "I haven't even done anything yet."

"It's your booklist," the clerk said. He was interrupted by a shout.

"It's over here, it's heading toward the door," the other clerk yelled.

"It's the Monster Book of Monsters. It was the last book we had to get for you, but it got out of the cage," the clerk told Malcolm. "We've been fighting it for the past hour."

Suddenly a growling noise was heard behind them. They turned around to see a thick book bouncing its way across the floor, snarling and snapping at things as it made its way. The clerk backed away, telling Malcolm to follow slowly. Malcolm looked down at the book, and snorted. It seemed too funny, being scared of a book. The book, in turn, stopped to stare at the boy who made the strange noise. At least Malcolm thought it was staring.

"Oh, aren't you cute," Malcolm said, as though talking to a strange dog. Kneeling down, he said, "you're just frightened, aren't you. The book ruffled its pages and inched forward. Still talking calmly to the book, he began stroking its binding when it got close enough. As the clerks stared at him, Malcolm picked up the book, treating it like a new pet.

[This book is actually purring. I think I'll call him Andy.]

Hagrid walked in to see Malcolm holding his book. His frown turned to a smile, when he saw what the boy was holding. "Tha's my favorite book as well. What're yer goin' to call it."

"Andy," Malcolm said, "I've never had a pet before."

A relieved clerk handed Hagrid the rest of the books, and happily showed them to the door. Malcolm looked back as they walked away, to see several of the stores employees watching from the windows, their faces filled with annoyance and relief.

"What game are yer playin', lad.," Hagrid asked as they walked back toward the Leaky Cauldron.

"What do you mean," Malcolm asked in his most innocent voice.

"Tha' tone ain't goin' to work with me, Malcolm. You know what I mean."

[That voice never works with my mom, either.]

"You mean Draco," Malcolm said defensively, "he's a friend. I was just trying to look good in front of his dad."

"I'm warnin yer, Malcolm, Lucius Malfoy is one of the worst sort. He's not the type to want to be knowin'. He's a devious liar, who's always up to no good. And that son of his, Draco, isn't much better."

"Hagrid, my mom describes me like that three times a week. And I'm the good son. What's wrong with being nice to someone when I can get something out of it. True, it was only clothes, but then, I'm not trying to be somebody else. I impressed Mr. Malfoy by being me."

"Malcolm, yer a strange one," Hagrid said after a long pause. "Yer help Mr. Ollivander without being asked, then yer turn around and be all friendly wit' the Malfoys. And then I find yer first off knowing how to take proper care of a book. I don't know whether to like yer or hate yer."

[I get that a lot].

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Malcolm said, "mostly from my teachers."

"Malcolm," Hagrid said with a wide grin, "I am one of your teachers."

"Does this count toward my final grade," Malcolm said with a frown.

  
  


When they neared the Leaky Cauldron, Malcolm waited by the archway, while Hagrid went to the apothecary. He watched the never boring crowd as they paraded up and down the street. Suddenly, a fat meaty hand grabbed him, and spun him around. He was face to face with the blond haired, blue eyed elephant from the wand shop.

"You're the boy who was staring at me," she said threateningly. "My mother says it's because I'm attractive. Is that true?" She concluded her statement with a vigorous shake of Malcolm's body.

[I know she's going to kill me if I says this, but this is going to be worth it.]

"Did it ever occur to you that your mother LIED?" Malcolm yelled back in anger. "There is no way I would ever think of you as attractive. Wait, there is one way," he added, his voice getting louder. "If you lost about two hundred and fifty pounds!"

The girl stared him down, saying, "I'm going to hold you to that, shorty." Then she asked, "How old are you? I'm twelve."

"Eleven," Malcolm answered, suddenly afraid.

"I'll be seeing you," the girl said, waving, as she walked back to the Leaky Cauldron.

In shock, Malcolm waved back.

"Oh, lad, that's another one yer don't want to have anythin' to do wit'," Hagrid said suddenly from behind.

Malcolm jumped at the sound. "Please, You're the second person to do that to me in the last five minutes," he muttered. He turned around, and Hagrid was staring at him that half-frown look he always got from teachers. Giving up, he held out his hand, and grabbed the portkey for the ride back to school.

  
  



	7. Letter Of the Law

Chapter 7: Letter of the Law 

It was late, but Malcolm didn't care. He had the wonderful experience of his first detention. He did get to spend his time writing letters to his family. McGonagall even included a lesson on how to send an owl, assuring him that the distance was not a problem. The Owl Post would handle that.

Professor McGonagall was not as bad as he expected, but there were reasons. She had seemed to be a stern teacher during his first class ever, Transfiguration. She was clearly pleased that he had made a passable needle out of his match, but then the news came about Draco and Hagrid. 

His friend had been attacked by a hippogryff, and Hagrid was being blamed for it. Rumors in Gryffindor said that Draco was faking his injury to cause trouble. Malcolm believed this. He knew how much the Malfoys disliked the giant, even if he hadn't been told why. His reaction was to wait and see what happened, an attitude which did not go over well in his house. He found he had to defend himself when he returned to the common room

Fred helped by saying, "He hasn't even been here a whole day. He's right. Let him wait and find out what's going on."

"That isn't true. He was a good idea of what is going on," Hermione Granger said. "After all, he spent the morning with Hagrid, and he claims to be friends with Malfoy."

"Malcolm, What is your opinion on all this?" someone asked as all eyes in the room watched him."

"First of all," Malcolm said angrily, "I don't claim to be friends with Draco Malfoy, I am friends with him. Second, I spent the morning with a very tall guy named Hagrid. I met him this morning when I walked into the Hall for breakfast, and saw him holding a dead animal. He then gave me a playful pat on the head which sent me to the floor. He did not make a good first impression."

"Hagrid is a wonderful person," Hermione said.

"Not to me," Malcolm shot back. "But then I've only known him for one day, I'll give you that. Draco doesn't like him either, and neither does his father. Do you know what I think? I think Hagrid has a very good chance of losing his job."

"Hagrid didn't do anything wrong," Hermione argued, "Draco provoked the hippogryff."

"Wrong?" Malcolm answered, "Hagrid, the teacher, introduced a dangerous animal to the student, Draco, who did not have sufficient training to handle the animal properly. Hagrid, as the teacher, was negligent in his duties."

"But Draco is faking his injuries, and we can prove it," Hermione countered.

"Doesn't matter," Malcolm argued, "The Malfoys can claim that it is emotional trauma, as a result of the unexpected attack."

"There is ample evidence that Draco Malfoy always acts in such a manner," Hermione retorted.

"Then it becomes a case of willful negligence on the part of the teacher. Hermione, You have just acknowledged that Draco Malfoy was not capable of handling the hippogryff. Present that argument in court and you will lose hands down."

Hermione shook her head sadly. "You're right, Malcolm. But I have to admit my surprise. How do you know those legal tricks?"

"I just paid attention whenever I was in a courtroom," Malcolm said, "That particular argument got my brother off, after the car caught fire."

[That's also why Francis is in a military school in Alabama. That and the nose rings.]

"He set your car on fire?" Fred asked.

"Of course not," Malcolm said to everyone's relief, "It wasn't our car."

Shortly after that, everyone went their separate ways, giving curious glances at their American housemate. Hermione came over to Malcolm and asked him if the incident with the car was true.

"Of course it is. Why would I lie about something about that."

Hermione appeared flustered. "Malcolm, I don't understand how you can calmly discuss your brother like that. Perhaps it's because I'm not used to such things but..."

"But I make you feel uncomfortable. I know, I get that a lot."

[Really, I do. Lots of people feel uncomfortable around me.]

"Malcolm," Hermione said, Laughing softly, "How did you manage to get into Gryffindor? You don't seem the type."

"It was to keep me out of trouble."

Hermione laughed at the joke. "I'm serious, Malcolm."

"So am I. The Sorting Hat told me I was smart enough for Ravenclaw, and ambitious enough for Slytherin, but it said I should go to Gryffindor because I would cause less trouble here."

Hermione thought about it for a minute. "The Hat was right, Malcolm, at least from my point of view."

This time Malcolm laughed. "Why do you say that?"

"That legal advice you gave me off the top of your head. You could be giving it to Malfoy." She paused and watched Malcolm for a minute. "I think I should keep an eye on you, you are someone to watch."

"Yeah, I get that a lot, too."

With that, Malcolm got up and went to his dorm to go to bed. "Hermione," he called back, "Christopher Lee or Richard Harris?"

"You have to explain that one."

"EJ and I were talking about the movies and Gryffindor."

"I get it, Count Dracula or King Arthur."

"That's right. So, Hermione, which one would you expect?"

"The Sheriff of Nottingham. I'm a big Alan Rickman fan."

  
  


Malcolm walked into the owlery with one last letter to send. He had written Stevie a long letter explaining, what had happened that day, asking for his opinion. It was the type of thing the Krelbournes were good at, as long as they didn't actually have to follow their own advice.

"I could tell you what your friends will say," Dumbledore said from behind.

[How does he do that. It's as though he and Mom went to the same mind-reading school.]

"I'm sorry, Sir," Malcolm said, "I didn't see you standing there."

"I know, Malcolm," said Albus, "but you have been on my mind quite a bit. Your name keeps coming up. People are telling me you are a boy to watch. You know what Lucius will do, don't you."

"He'll try to have Hagrid removed as a teacher. I know they don't like each other. Draco will fake his injuries enough to make a case. If this is anything like the real world, it's going to go on for a long time."

"It could last a few months easily," Dumbledore said, "a year at the most. But there is nothing we can do about that, yet. Don't forget, we also have an escaped convict to hunt for. Our attention is divided now."

Malcolm looked down at the floor, "You're talking like I'm on your side. The truth is, I don't care about Hagrid that much. Despite what they're going to do, I do like Draco, and his father. And I know that they like me, at least that was my first impression."

"You are right about them. Do you remember when you were sorted, yesterday, how the Slytherin table cheered you. Draco wanted to show you how he felt, so he told everyone in his house to applaud that you didn't get into Slytherin. They were annoyed with him when they found out the truth. As for his father, he sees that part of you, that is most like him. The robes you wear prove you are right about him as well."

"What should I do?" Malcolm asked.

"Send the letter to your friends," Dumbledore assured him. "I'm sure they will help you decide what to do when the time comes to choose sides, and it will. Until then, the problem will continue, regardless of what you do. It is not a pleasant situation, and it has you, Malcolm, in the middle."

[That phrase sounds awfully familiar.]

  
  



	8. Letters

A/N It was only when Ariana pointed it out, that I realized that Malcolm's personal comments were not showing up in Italics. I have tried, but not yet figured out how to fix this mistake. Until then, I am reloading the previous chapters with Malcolm's comments in [Brackets]. I hope this will make the reading easier to follow. I didn't change this chapter, because Malcolm is not in this, so he makes no comments.

I should have checked, but that is what happens when you assume, except that u are exempt in this case, and it all falls on me. -HiBob

  
  
  
  
Chapter 8: Letters 

Commandant Spangler walked into the dormitory room. A surprised Francis looked away from the owl and at the commandant. Both he and his roommate, Stan, snapped to attention.

"What is that creature doing in this room?" Spangler demanded, "No cadet is permitted to have pets of any kind."

"I'm sorry, sir," Francis began, "it just flew into the window, and gave me a letter."

Spangler stared at Francis with his eye, "If it isn't your bird, Cadet, then whose bird is it?"

"The United States Postal Service, Sir," answered Stan, "It was just delivering the mail, Sir."

Angered at being given a reasonable answer, the commandant turned to go, saying, "Pay the postage due, and get rid of it, NOW." With that, he left to continue his inspection.

"So, Francis, who's the letter from."

"It's from Malcolm," Francis said in surprise, "He says that he can do magic, and that he's going to school in Scotland to become a wizard."

Both cadets turned to look at the owl.

"Do you think he flew all the way?" Stan asked.

"No," guessed Francis, "It's probably just a local owl."

Stan nodded at the logic. "So your brother is going to be a wizard. What else does he say?"

"Let's see," Francis said, reading, "He says here that it has to be kept a secret and I can't tell anybody."

"Cool," Stan said, taking the letter to read. "Hey, Guys," he called out to two passing cadets, "You've got to read this letter."

"Stan, are you crazy?" Francis asked in disgust. "Do you really intend to walk around to everyone in the school, showing them that letter?"

"I apologize, Francis," Stan said with embarrassment, returning the letter, "I was just being foolish."

"Of course you were, Stan. That is why we have a Bulletin Board."

  
  


"So....," said Stevie, "Malcolm.....is a.....Wizard?"

"Yeah," said Dewey, "He's off studying magic in a big castle in Scotland or it might be in England it's pretty close to the border so I don't remember but I do remember that I have a friend there and he invited me to come by and play with him anytime and mom and dad are having a fireplace put in so we can become part of this big wizard thing like a magic bus and I can write to Malcolm all I want and send it to him by an owl but it has to be overnight because owls don't fly in the daytime unless they have too but sometimes they do because of the time zones but that's how wizards do things and we're not supposed to talk about it to anyone."

"Oh..." Stevie replied.

"Dewey," Lois called, "You aren't talking about you-know-what, are you?"

"No Mom, "Dewey replied, "I was talking about Malcolm."

The sound of dishes being slammed on the counter came from the kitchen.

"Honey," Hal called, "Mrs. Miller, Malcolm's old teacher is here to talk to us."

Lois raised her eyes upward, saying a prayer in vane for an easy day. Walking into the living room, she greeted the teacher. "What is it this time?"

"As you know," Christine Miller began nervously, "Malcolm's transfer to this school, Hogwarts, was very sudden and unexpected. I know you said it was a last minute thing, but the children are telling stories about him studying magic, and it sounds like it's more than card tricks and things like that. It sounds like witchcraft and sorcery."

"Where would they get stories like that?" Lois said in amazement. Instantly, awareness set in as she mentally listed the sons remaining at home. "Reese," she shouted, "Get out here."

"Honey," Hal interrupted, "He left just as the doorbell rang."

"Big Surprise," Lois said, sarcastically. Turning to the teacher, with steely eyes, she said in a threatening voice, "I didn't want to tell anyone this but now I have to. Malcolm is not going to any school of magic or anything. While we were on vacation, he had a nervous breakdown. He thinks he's studying to be a wizard like Merlin and all those guys, but he isn't. The school's real name is the Hogwarts Institute for Emotionally Disturbed Children. Are you happy now? Now you know my son's a wacko." Lois then began to cry obviously fake tears.

"Beautiful performance, Honey," Hal whispered as he comforted his wife.

"Maybe I should go now," said Christine as she ran for the door, crying, "Poor Malcolm, Poor Malcolm."

Hal and Lois began laughing as the coast cleared.

"That was an excellent idea, Lois. If everyone thinks Malcolm is crazy, than we can say anything about him, and it won't matter. God, I hate keeping secrets anyway."

Hal was interrupted by a knock at the still open door.

"Sorry to bother you," said a graying man, about fifty years old, "I'm David Winter, with the Department of Magic, Office of muggle intervention. We've had reports that your son's ability to perform magic has become, to be blunt, common knowledge. I'm here to see how serious the case is."

"Oh, we took care of it already," Hal said, inviting the man in. "My wife just told his old teacher that he went nuts and he's in a loony bin overseas."

Lois marveled at David as a full range of emotions moved over his face. Finally shaking his head, he asked, "Do you really think that will work?"

"Definitely," Lois told him, "Malcolm's old friends are spreading the stories about him, thanks to his soon to be permanently grounded brother. His teacher is going to tell them the 'truth,' and it will spread out from there like ripples in a pond. Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes," Mr. Winter said, "I think I could use some."

After a couple of hours of talk, David Winter got up to leave. "I'm really impressed, Lois, you did a better job on this and without magic, than most wizards could with all the spells in the world. I really like the part about telling everyone to just go along with his fantasy."

"Why, thank you, Dave," Lois said, clearly pleased at the compliment, "and don't forget, the next time you come by, apparate right into the kitchen. If we're not here, just curse the kids or something if they cause any trouble."

At that moment, Reese walked in. "Hello Mother, Father. I see we have a guest."

"Yes, we do," Lois said with a smile, "Dave, this is my son, Reese. Reese, You're grounded for life."

"Reese," Dewey called out as he ran into the room, crying. "They said Malcolm's really crazy, and that he isn't magic. Say it isn't true." With that he grabbed his brother's leg and continued crying.

"Mom, is that true? Malcolm isn't a wizard? He's really a fruitcake?" Reese asked in total surprise as Lois nodded her head.

"Wow. That's even better. I'll be really cool, now. I can't wait to tell people." He started to run off but remembered he was grounded. "Mom?"

"Go ahead," Lois said in disgust, "I'll ground you later."

Reese said a quick, "Thanks, Mom," and was gone.

Dewey stood up, dried his eyes and held out his hand. Hal reached into his pocket and handed over a five. Dewey continued to stand there until Hal gave him another five. "Thank You," he said, and left the room.

"I am deeply impressed," David said, "I do hope we meet again."

"Don't worry, Dave," Lois assured him, "I know my kids. You're going to be a regular here."

Laughing at what he thought was a joke, David said goodbye, and apparated away.

  
  


"Stevie, you do understand that Malcolm will be away until the holidays," Lois said, "and he may seem funny when he gets home."

"Yes.....I do......understand..." Stevie replied, "He's going......to.....be a......wizard."

"No, Stevie, that's wrong. He only thinks he's going to be a wizard. He had a nervous breakdown, and he's gone away for therapy."

"Excuse...me..," Stevie interrupted. "Then....explain that...," he said, pointing to the refrigerator.

There, on the refrigerator door, held in place by a kitchen magnet, was a picture of Malcolm, in pointed hat and robes, waving to everyone. The picture was so clear, you could tell that the other students were upset that he wasn't getting into line, yet. Lois looked at the picture, and shook her head.

"Stevie," She started to say, but she stopped when she saw he put his hand in front of his mouth and moved it as though locking a door. He then swallowed the key, saying, "Who would....believe me....anyway."

An owl flew through the open window, dropping a letter on the kitchen table. Lois picked it up and read the envelope. "It's for you, Stevie," she said and handed him the letter.

  
  



	9. A Day at the Classes

Chapter 9: A Day at the Classes 

Malcolm was eating breakfast when his mail arrived. Unlike everyone else's mail, the owl dropped his letters in a neat pile, next to his arm.

"How do you get the owls to do that?" Ginny asked as she pulled her letter out of the oatmeal.

"Corn nuts," Malcolm answered, "I went to the owlery and bribed them. After all, every letter I send goes a lot further than anyone else."

Ginny smiled at the thought, and leaned over out of curiosity.

"It's from my brother, Francis," Malcolm said, showing Ginny the letter. "Oh, Great! He says all the guys at his school send their congratulations."

"Do you mean, he told them about you?" Ginny asked.

"I mean, yeah," Malcolm answered.

"Malcolm?" Ginny asked, looking at the letter. "Why does he want to know if you can magically reattach a human head?"

"Probably some school project," Malcolm said, shrugging his shoulders.

[I hope it's a school project.]

"Excuse me, Malcolm," Hermione interrupted, "Do you say your brother told everyone at his school that you are a wizard?"

"Yeah," Malcolm said, "It's right here in his letter. My brother, Reese, is doing the same thing."

"Malcolm," Hermione said, taking a lecturing tone, "You are aware that muggles are not supposed to know about magic except in certain circumstances."

"That's okay," Malcolm replied, "My mom took care of it. She told everyone that I went crazy, and I'm in a mental ward."

Hermione stared in shock, as did Harry and Ron, and half the table. Ginny, and EJ, were the exceptions. They started laughing out loud. Neville, who had walked in on the scene, smiled as he sat down, saying, "another happy day at the Institute."

Harry recovered first, asking, "Does everyone believe you're crazy?"

"I do," mouthed Ron.

"Everyone, even Reese," Malcolm answered.

"Wait a minute," Ron said, "How could that stupid idiot brother of yours believe you are crazy, when he was there on the train, and at the school?"

[Wow, he answered his own question and doesn't even know it.]

"Could you repeat the first part of that question?"

"How could that stupid . . . Oh, never mind," Ron finished.

"Malcolm showed us the letter he got from his mother," Ginny said, "We are all patients at the Hogwarts Institute for the Education of Emotionally Disturbed Youths."

"Here, Malcolm," said a voice from behind, "Stevie asked me to give you this."

Dewey handed Malcolm a letter, and ran out of the Great Hall yelling "Peeves, wait up."

"Who was that?" almost everyone asked.

"That's my little brother, Dewey. If my mom finds out he skipped school he'll be in trouble. Oh, sorry, different time zones. He has at least five hours to get there."

"But how did he get here?" Hermione asked, beating out everyone else.

Malcolm shrugged his shoulders and went back to eating breakfast. In the surprise of meeting Dewey, no one thought to ask him about the letter.

  
  


"You found the trick step, I see," said Madam Pomfrey, as she waved her wand over Malcolm's leg. "It's only a sprain, I'm afraid. Not enough to keep you out of class." She waved the wand, pointing it at the ankle, and said, "You can go to class, now."

Grateful, Malcolm walked out without any pain. He stopped and turned back to ask, "Madam Pomfrey?"

"You have your note, go on to class."

"I wanted to ask, about the way you healed my ankle. Can you heal anything?"

"Almost anything, Malcolm. What were you planning on doing?"

"It isn't me, Madam Pomfrey. I have a friend, Stevie..."

"Is it congenital. If he was born with his condition, then the answer is no, he can't be healed. You know Harry Potter? He was born nearsighted, which is why he wears glasses. Had his eyes been injured, we could have repaired the damage. Do you understand?"

Malcolm nodded his head, and began to leave when Madam Pomfrey called him back.

"You should know, Malcolm, you are not the first person to ask me that question. You are not even the first person this year. Every student knows someone, a friend, a cousin, even a brother. I am sorry."

[That's what I hate most about all of this. Life IS unfair.]

  
  


"What did I miss, EJ?" whispered Malcolm as he sat down.

"Nothing," his friend answered, "Professor Binns is talking about the Reforms following the Goblin Revolts, I think. I haven't been paying attention."

"Excuse me," Professor Binns asked, "Why are you talking in my class?"

"It's my fault, Professor," Malcolm said, "I was late to class, and was asking what I had missed. My friend was letting me know that we were discussing the Goblin Reforms."

"Were we?" Professor Binns asked. "I thought we did that last week. My notes for today are on the first Anglo-French treaty on magical trade items. How late have you been?"

"I've been sick, Sir."

"He was turned into a newt, Sir," EJ added helpfully.

"I see that you are better," Professor Binns said, "now please sit down."

Professor Binns continued with his lecture, failing to notice that several students did not even wake up during the interruption. Meanwhile, Malcolm tried to figure out, why everyone thought it funny that he had gotten better.

  
  


Professor Snape walked into his classroom to find a young boy with a crew cut standing by his desk.

"May I help you?" The Professor asked.

"No," Dewey said, and kept looking at the desk.

"May I ask what you are doing in here?" Snape asked irritably.

"Nothing," Dewey said, then pointed at something on the desk, "What's that?

"It's a dried Toad," came the answer, "Now, will you please leave?"

Dewey shook his head no, and pointed again, "What's that?"

"That is ground Bezoar," Snape answered, "and the door is over there if you are having trouble finding it."

"I'm fine," Dewey answered, pointing again. "What's that?"

"That is still a dried Toad," the Potions Teacher said angrily, "I've had enough from you, young man. Get out of my classroom, NOW."

"Excuse me," Dewey said.

"I told you," Snape began, but then the flatulent smell hit him. He closed his mouth and walked away from his desk.

A group of students walked in, and one of them said, "Woah! What died in here?"

The laughter died when a certain professor cleared his throat. "For that remark, Mr. Malfoy, You may sit right there."

Draco followed Snape's finger to the student desk, right behind Dewey. He swallowed hard, then took a deep breath, before walking to his assigned seat. As he went to sit done, Peeves came flying in yelling, "Found you, found you. Now I have a turn."

Peeves flew out of the room with Dewey running after him shouting, "Remember, no hiding in the walls."

  
  


Madame Hooch called the class to order. "Hold your right hand out over the broom, and shout, 'Up.'"

Malcolm did as he was told, and was pleased when he found himself holding the broom. He looked around and saw he was one of the few to do it on the first try. He had to wait until everyone had their brooms, but then the next part of the lesson began,

"Class, mount your broom," Madam Hooch ordered. "You will kick off lightly, then lean forward. This will take you up, but only a little. You will then pull back on the broom, and land. Does everyone understand?"

After the third repetition, everyone understood enough to say yes. Malcolm kicked of and leaned forward. He rose slowly until he was about five feet in the air. Then he felt a sudden lurch.

"Malcolm," Madame Hooch called, "What is the problem? Oh, dear, everyone get away from him. No, Penelope," she yelled, "You're going downwind."

  
  


"I feel terrible," Malcolm said, "I don't know what happened."

"Let's put it this way, everyone knows what you had for breakfast," E.J. said, "You should be thankful that Madame Hooch cleaned your robes for you."

"I meant that I didn't know why. I know what I did, I can still smell it," Malcolm said, feeling nauseous, again.

E.J. opened the door to the infirmary for Malcolm, then closed it and ran away. He did not want to be around for the second show. In the distance, he could hear Madame Pomfrey say, "Don't worry, Malcolm, we'll get you cleaned up."

  
  



	10. Detentions cpme in Different Flavors

A/N: Again I want to thank everyone for reading and I do appreciate the feedback.

In response to Kelly, who thinks Malcolm is out of character, I think his friendship with Draco is a natural, considering his family background. Good and Evil can be relative terms.

As for explaining Dewey's appearance at the school, I plan on doing that at the end of Malcolm's second year. Also, it adds to the humor that I can have him appear at unexpected times.

Ariana asked why Malcolm gets sick on a broom. This relates to the end of season episode when the family went to the waterpark. Malcolm was wearing something. You might remember that episode. Reese was trying to impress some girls, and Malcolm came up behind him and grabbed either side of his bathing suit. . ."

And Ozma mentioned HLB and Raven Dancer who read the completed version I posted to our group website before I started posting it. Since then I have been 'tweaking' it. I wonder if they would recognize parts of it?

Lastly to Nell, I missed that episode, and I have to wait for the reruns. I finally figured out who that lady was who stole the parakeet.

  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 10: Detentions come in Different Flavors 

"Its really easy, EJ," Malcolm explained to his friend, "It's a magical variation of darts."

"I'm familiar with darts," EJ said, "How does it work?"

Malcolm smiled as he explained, "I've fireproofed that 'dartboard' and I've also put a charm on it. You shoot a fire starting spell at the board, and whatever part you hit glows for a couple of seconds. The scoring is just like in a regular game of darts."

Malcolm aimed his wand, and shouted his spell.

"Owwww," someone screamed.

"Is aim important?" EJ asked.

  
  


Remus Lupin was the most popular teacher in the school, at least with the Gryffindor's. Malcolm enjoyed the class as well. The only part he didn't like was when the Defense Professor asked to speak with him after class.

"Malcolm, I have the pleasure of having you for detention for the next week, but I don't know why. Could you explain it?"

"Excuse me, Sir, can I get away with just answering yes? I'd like to leave it at that."

Remus laughed as he eyed the young boy. "Why don't I explain it to you, then? You ran away from home to go to school. It isn't that common an event, although we have had a few students do the opposite. I was curious how you found out about the school."

Malcolm looked up and sighed, "It started when the Weasley twins lost their tickets to the Hogwarts Express, and my brother found them."

"Ah, the twins. They get their hand into everything if they can. Thank You, Malcolm, that was all I wanted to know."

Malcolm started to leave, when Lupin called him back, "About detention, I will be busy during the next week, so I would like to make a deal with you. I want you to go to the library tomorrow. Since it is the start of the weekend, I will let you choose the time. You will find five books on reserve for you. You will read each book, and write a report on it. That should be easy enough."

"Yes, Sir. Thank You, Sir," Malcolm muttered.

"You forgot to add 'It won't happen again, Sir.'" Remus said with a laugh. "My point is, Malcolm, You can read the books whenever you want. You can do them all tomorrow, if you've a mind to, and be free for the entire week."

A smile crept onto the young boy's lips and stayed there.

  
  


Malcolm walked into the library right after breakfast, and was shown the shelf, where the five books were. None of them were very big, either. He picked a book at random, and read the title. "Muggles, Magic and Mayhem." Malcolm sat down with this book, and read a series of short stories, all true, about how muggles have reacted when they came in contact with wizards and magic.

[Do you know what this book is about? It's about me, and all the things that could have happened to me. Then again, it could be about Reese, and all the things that did happen to him. The only bad thing is, it reads like Readers Digest.]

In two hours he was done, and his report was written. He picked up the second book and began reading. It was late when Malcolm left the library, with five reports, and a week of free nights. The best thing of all was that tonight was Hallowe'en, and he would begin his week of freedom with a feast.

He was on his way back, when he ran into a dog. He fell over, and landed on the dog, which turned into a thin, scraggly man with long hair and yellow teeth. "This is not my day," the man cursed, as he looked at Malcolm. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, and sighed in relief when the boy shook his head no.

"Let me guess," Malcolm said, picking himself up, "You're that escaped criminal everyone is talking about. Are you really a murderer or was that an accident?"

Sirius Black stared at the boy in disbelief. By his accent, he was obviously an American. Only an American would ask if it was an accident. "I doubt you'll believe this, " he said, "but I was framed, and I'm chasing the real killer." He stared in disbelief, again, as the boy looked disappointed. "I'm sorry," he added, "not everyone is a mass murderer. Excuse me, but I have to go. This is a bit much, and . . ."

"I know," said Malcolm, in a sarcastic voice, "don't tell anyone or you'll hunt me down and cut my throat."

"What are you talking about?" Sirius asked, "I didn't say anything about hunting you down. Why should I do that?"

"Because I told them about you"

"But you haven't said anything yet. And besides, I expect you to."

"Why," asked Malcolm, "If I was an escaped criminal, the last thing I would want is people saying they saw me, unless they really didn't, but that's getting off the subject."

"Look, kid . . ." Sirius said.

"Malcolm."

"OK. Malcolm. I'm Sirius."

"Serious as in you really mean it?"

"NO, Sirius as in the dog star. It's my name, you little twerp. If you want to tell anyone about me, go ahead. I don't care. Just don't bother me with you stupid comments."

[I guess he must be innocent. Nobody guilty would spend so much time complaining.]

"Where are you hiding, I can sneak food out to you, too."

"Too?" Sirius asked.

"It means in addition, also, as well as," Malcolm answered.

"I know what it means, you little . . . imp," Sirius said with half a smile, "who else are you sneaking food to?"

"Oh, that would be Buckbeak. He's a deranged hippogryph who attacks people at random. He also loves cranberry muffins." Malcolm gave Sirius a smile to show that this type of thing was perfectly normal.

[That's my best smile. It drives most of my teachers up the wall.]

Sirius gave the same smile back to Malcolm, and said, "There is a spot you can leave things for me. Do you know about the Whomping Willow?"

  
  


"Hi Malcolm," Ginny called, "I haven't seen you all day. Did anything happen?"

"Nothing much," Malcolm answered, "Lupin let me do all of my detention today, so I've been in the library."

"What will you do with all that time?" Ginny asked with amusement.

"I don't know. What do you do around here at nights?"

"Nothing, Malcolm. Nothing ever happens around here."

"I'll think of something," Malcolm said, as he began to hide food in his pockets.

Ginny leaned over and asked in a whisper, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Malcolm said, as he picked up a couple of muffins, and added them to his stash. Ginny shook her head in amusement, as he left the Great Hall.

Malcolm left the school and headed down to Hagrid's Hut. He walked to the spot Sirius told him about, and hid the food. Then he walked to the corral behind the hut, where Buckbeak was tied. He untied the hippogryph who flapped his wings and began flying around overhead. Malcolm grabbed the wheelbarrow and shovel, and spent the next half hour cleaning out the corral. He tossed the contents onto the compost pile, and returned the wheelbarrow and shovel to their proper places. Without saying a word, he walked back to the corral, and retied Buckbeak, handing him a muffin. Buckbeak eyed the boy, who grinned and pulled out a second muffin. "This is because I'm late," he said.

The hippogryph bowed to Malcolm, and took one of the muffins. Throwing it into its mouth, it took the other muffin, and bowed again. In the shadows, a large black dog watched the scene in disbelief. The dog was willing to bet that Malcolm was not even normal for an American.

All at once, noise came from the school, and two adults came running out. The dog quickly disappeared as Malcolm was spotted by Hagrid and Argus Filch.

"What are you doing out, boy?" Filch asked, in a hopeful voice. The hope was that he would have a reason to punish the boy or, better yet, expel him.

"My detention, sir," Malcolm answered, "Hagrid gave me the job of cleaning out the corral. I was running late today."

"Drat," Filch said, and turned away in disgust.

"Did yer see anything unusual, Malcolm?" Hagrid asked.

[Is that a loaded question, or what? I'm at Hogwarts. I wouldn't know unusual, if it wore a name tag.]

"No, Sir. Nothing more unusual than normal."

"Well, then, best yer go back inside," Hagrid said, dismissing the boy.

"Hagrid, are you daft, man," Argus Filch said, "We have an escaped madman running around out here. He's already attacked the Fat Lady, who's hiding somewhere on the upper floors. And you're letting the boy walk all the way back without an escort?"

"That's Malcolm," Hagrid said, in explanation.

"Oh. Sorry, Hagrid," Filch said, after a short pause. "Well, off now, boy. Get back inside."

[I should be insulted, but I'm not. Both of them get really confused when they talk with me for any length of time.]

Malcolm walked back inside to find everyone gathering in the Great Hall, for an indoor camp out. Sleeping bags were placed and all the students were picking spots for sleeping. Malcolm grabbed a sleeping bag, and looked around. Draco waved him over, and he dragged his bag over to the Slytherin boy.

"Did you hear what happened?" Draco asked, ignoring the stares of his house mates.

"Let's see, an escaped madman tried to break into Gryffindor," Malcolm said, then asked, "Is this the one after Scarface?"

"Who?" asked Goyle.

"Potter," Draco answered, with a sigh of exasperation. "Scarface Harry Potter. Malcolm says it makes him sound like a gangster."

"A gangster?" asked Goyle.

Draco just shook his head, then said, "You're safer over here with us, Malcolm. In case he get into the Hall, he'll head right for that corner, where Potter is."

Malcolm got in his bag when the prefects began calling lights out, and listened to the various comments other students whispered.. He tried to sleep, when he remembered the one question he should have asked Sirius: Who was the real killer?

  
  


The next morning, Draco and several Slytherins ushered Malcolm into a classroom. "We have a plan for the Quidditch Game coming up," Draco said, "and we wanted to know if you were interested."

Malcolm smiled and said, "I'm all ears."

"You know how Potter reacts when dementors are around," Draco said, taking the lead. "We know how to let them onto the grounds. What do you think of a couple of them showing up at the Quidditch Pitch during the game?"

"How?" Malcolm asked, "Most of you are on the team, and you'll be playing."

"That's been taken care of," Marcus Flint said, with a grin. "Our seeker still doesn't have the full use of his arm. We'll be trading our spot with Hufflepuff. And if you tell . . ."

"I know," said Malcolm, in a bored voice, "You'll hunt me down and cut my throat."

"NO," Flint said, "We'll tell everybody that you were in on the plan, but chickened out. You have some gross ideas."

"So, Malcolm," Draco asked, "What do you think?"

Malcolm was taken back by the suggestion. Then he noticed Draco's smile. It was the same one he had on the train, when the dementor had shown up.

[This is creepy. Draco's telling me, so I can figure a way out for him. Wish me luck.]

"I don't like it," Malcolm said, "What good does it do you? I mean . . .

[I have no idea what I mean. I need to make up something. What would Francis do?]

"No, Malcolm," Francis told his five-year-old brother, "Don't run away, you'll miss the explosion."

"But we'll get caught," the little boy pleaded.

Francis knelt down in front of his brother and looked him straight in the eye. "Look, Malcolm, you can always run away, but then you never get to see the results of your efforts. And after you're punished, you can talk about it all you want. And you don't have to hide, either."

"Yeah," said the five-year-old, who turned around in time to watch the garage door explode.

"That was an awful big explosion," the young boy said, as the pieces of the garage door flew past them into the street.

"You see, Malcolm. This is why we didn't use our garage."

[Thanks, Francis.]

". . . where's the fun in it? First of all, dementors are dangerous. What if they got loose. Can any of you control them?" Malcolm watched as nobody raised their hands, although a couple of Slytherins glared at him. "That isn't important, though. What is important is that nobody dares say anything, because you might be found out. I don't know about you but, to me, that defeats the whole point of doing something."

Malcolm smiled as he warmed into his little speech. Even the Slytherins were curious. "Why don't you do this," Malcolm suggested, "Dress up like dementors and get Potter's attention. That should do the trick."

"But we'll get caught, and get detention," Goyle complained.

"Exactly," said Malcolm, "and you'll have to tell everyone how you got detention. With your plan, you can't tell anyone, or you'll be expelled."

"I like it," said Draco, "Potter's reaction will only last one minute, but we can tell people about it for weeks. I'm up for detention. Who's with me?"

Malcolm was made an honorary Slytherin for his efforts.

It took a few days, but Malcolm finally began to worry about what he had done. He read Stevie's letter again before he finally sat down and wrote a letter, that began, "Dear Mom, I did something stupid . . ."

[I hope I'm right about doing something stupid. If I'm wrong, then I am doing something stupid.]

  
  


"What did you call my brother?" Reese demanded.

"Nothing," the younger boy said in his best please don't hit me voice.

"You said my brother was a nutcase," Reese informed the boy, with a smile.

"But he is a nutcase. You told us he was in the loony bin."

Reese paused as he thought about it. "You're right," he said, with a laugh. "I must look stupid for yelling at you like that." Then he hit the boy, and dropped him to the ground.

"Why did you do that?" said the boy with the bleeding nose.

"For making me look stupid," Reese yelled, as he walked away.

  
  


Francis walked off the drill field, and picked up the phone. "What is it, Mom?"

"Francis, What did you tell you brother?" Lois yelled from the other end of the phone.

"Mom, calm down. What are we talking about."

"Malcolm. He's gotten himself involved with some hooligans at his school. He told me that he gave them your advice."

Francis began to think furiously. If Malcolm said something, it means he wrote it down. That meant that the 'you didn't hear it properly' excuse would not work. "Mom, he didn't ask me for any advice, it must have been something I said before I came here, hundreds of miles from the warm and loving family that should be caring and nurturing me. You can't hold me responsible for that."

"Francis, he said you gave him good advice, that actually helped."

"Ohhh, that advice?" Francis said, as though he suddenly remembered.

"And that advice was?" Lois demanded.

"I have no idea, Mom. What are we talking about?"

"Francis," Lois screamed, "sometimes you are totally useless." Then she hung up.

Francis looked worried. Mom usually wasn't this upset about anything. Then he gazed out the window at the cadets marching around the muddy field. "Mom, it can't be that bad," he said into the phone. Putting his hand over the mouthpiece, he said to the Commandant, "It's going to be a while, Sir."

  
  


Malcolm looked out the window at the storm clouds rolling in. Another perfect day to stay indoors. EJ walked up to him and asked, "Are you going to the Quidditch Match today?"

Malcolm looked at his friend in disbelief. "After everything I've done on a broom, do you think I could stand to watch people flying all over the place? And in this weather?"

"You could where that nose plug thing your mom sent. It helps with your flying."

"EJ, everybody in class thinks I'm a dork for wearing it."

"But it does help."

There was a knock on the door to the boys dorm, and Amber stuck her head in. "Are you going to the match, Malcolm?"

"No, Amber, but thanks for asking."

As Amber closed the door, she called out, "It's OK. He's not going."

The two headed down for lunch, and Malcolm was forced to reassure several people that he was not going. His reputation on a broom had made a lot of people wary.

[It wasn't that bad. I mean, after that first lesson I wouldn't eat before class.]

As Malcolm was leaving, he heard Draco call him. "You are coming to the game, aren't you? You can sit with us if you want."

"He is going to wear that nose thing, isn't he?" Goyle asked nervously.

"I'm not going," Malcolm said, "but I thought you were going to be doing something. What happened?"

"The weather," Draco said, "It will be too much fun watching them try to play in the rain. We'll use you idea another day."

The Slytherins headed off, leaving Malcolm to himself.

  
  


"Harry's fine," Ron told everybody when he returned to the Gryffindor common room.

"That was a bad fall," Wood said, "but we have a problem. Tell him, Colin."

Colin Creevey looked nervous at being the center of attention, but tried to speak boldly, "It was the Slytherins, they let the dementors onto the school grounds. And that first year, Malcolm was involved." He related what had been told to him by a friend in another house, who had overheard parts of the plan. Malcolm's friendship with a certain Slytherin was enough to convict him. The discussion turned on what to do about the young American.

"Where is Malcolm?" Hermione asked.

"He left, right after he heard about Harry," she was told.

"He probably went running to the Slytherins," Ron yelled. "I'll kill him if I get my hands on him."

"You'll have to stand in line," Oliver Wood said

"Shouldn't we talk to Malcolm, first?" Ginny asked, trying to be a voice of reason, "He might be able to explain..."

She was shouted down by almost everyone, when the room went silent. One by one the students looked up at the figure standing by the doorway.

"I apologize if I am interrupting," Albus Dumbledore said, "but I was hoping that Malcolm was here." He looked around the room, and continued. "Let me say first of all that the dementors came to the match today uninvited." He looked sternly over the crowd of students, as the silence deepened.

"I don't know if you are aware, but there was a 'prank' planned, if I may use that word, to invite some of the dementors onto the school grounds. Under the circumstances, this would have been foolhardy, and quite deadly for the students involved. These students were not Gryffindors, of course, but it was a Gryffindor who showed these students their folly, and talked them out of it."

Dumbledore ignored the looks of disbelief he was receiving, but smiled slightly as he continued. "I think Malcolm has proven himself to be a true Gryffindor. It takes a great deal of courage in the first place to remain friends with someone that those around you dislike. But he went further. He talked his friend out of a rash course of action, for no other reason than that it was the right thing to do. I do not wish to think of what would have happened if he had not intervened."

"Furthermore, I would not have known about his actions at all, if he had not written his mother for assurance that he did do the right thing, and if she had not forwarded his letter to me. He did a very brave thing, in my opinion, and he did it without looking for praise."

The Headmaster began to leave, then turned back and said, "I am awarding Gryffindor fifty points for what happened. Please let Malcolm know."

"How does he do that?" Fred asked in the silence that followed.

"Dumbledore?" asked George.

"No. Malcolm. Two minutes ago we were ready to kill him. Now he's a hero."

"Not really, Fred, those were Slytherins he saved, not real people."


	11. The Happy Holidays

A/N My thanks to Kelly and Ariana for their comments. I proofed some of my later chapters, after Kelly's remark, and found some problems. I like to think I would have found them anyway, but it helps to have someone there to say, "Oh, by the way. . ."

Ariana does this as well, and I must admit I love it. I had this great idea that Sirius Black would be in a bad mood when he approached the Fat Lady, because of an annoying conversation he had just previously. I forgot to connect the two events. A clear case of Author Omniscience (per HLB). I knew what I was doing, and I figured that you did too. To quote Rocky, "That trick never works."

Thanks for reading and reviewing. - HiBob

  
  
  
  
Chapter 11: The Happy Holidays 

"Malcolm," Draco called, as the young Gryffindor entered the Great Hall. As he came over, he asked, "Have you made your plans for the holidays?"

"Well, I'm going home," Malcolm said.

"Would you like company?" Draco asked. "My parents are thinking of taking a holiday, and I have a choice of being a third wheel, or visiting friends during the Christmas break."

"Why Me?" Malcolm asked.

"You're a smart lad," Draco said. "You should be able to figure it out. My other choices are Crabbe or Goyle. Whom would you pick?"

Malcolm smiled and said, "You do remember my brother, Reese? He'll be there as well."

Draco paled at the memories of the most obnoxious person he had ever met. "Let me talk to father. Maybe he hasn't finalized the arrangements, yet."

Draco ran out of the hall, almost knocking down Ginny Weasley. He was so flustered, he apologized without even thinking.

"Malcolm, What happened?" Ginny asked.

"Draco's folks are going on vacation, and they want him to stay with me for the holiday," Malcolm told her as they sat down. "He was all for it until I reminded him about Reese."

Ginny shuddered, remembering her brief encounter with Malcolm's brother. "I can't believe someone can be that obnoxious without even trying."

"He isn't really that bad," Malcolm said.

"Yes he is," said Dewey as he sat down and grabbed some food.

"Good morning, Dewey," Ginny said. "Are you going back with Malcolm?"

Dewey shot an angry look at Malcolm. "Do you have to come home? Can't you just mail your presents? It's bad enough I have to share a bedroom with Reese."

"Look, you little jerk," Malcolm snarled back, "you're not even supposed to be here. If Mom finds out, you won't get any presents. Besides, I'm bringing Draco, so if you cause any trouble . . ."

"I know," Dewey said, defeated, "You'll hunt me down and cut my throat."

Malcolm looked aghast. "Of course not, Dewey. I'd tell Mom all about you coming here."

[I don't believe what he said. Where does Dewey hear phrases like that?]

"Malcolm," Dewey said, smiling slyly, "What will you say when Mom asks you why you didn't tell her earlier?"

Malcolm picked up a piece of fruit to throw, when Ginny grabbed his hand. "What are you doing, Malcolm? He's only a seven-year-old boy." Ginny got up and walked over to Dewey. "Did he hurt you, Dewey?" she asked, as other students, female, began to give the boy attention. 

"He always tries to scare me," Dewey said, breaking down and crying.

As Ginny hugged him and patted his back, the other girls made it a point to either compliment Dewey, or insult his brother. In one isolated moment, Dewey looked up at Malcolm, and gave him a smile that said, "I win." He went back to crying as the girls continued to comfort him. Malcolm, in disgust, got up and left.

[Don't Worry. When I get home, it's going to be only him and me, with Reese and Francis. In any fight in our house, we only have one rule: Go for the smallest target.]

"Malcolm," Neville Longbottom called as the young Gryffindor left the Great Hall. "I thought you might like to know. Gran has invited your family to our house for dinner, on Boxing Day. I thought you would like that?"

Malcolm looked surprised. "Your Grandmother does remember Reese, doesn't she?"

Neville looked on his young house mate with a condescending smile. "Malcolm, Gran is a witch. She will have no problem with Reese."

Malcolm nodded with respect. "What's Boxing Day, and when is it?"

Neville looked surprised. "I guess you Americans don't have that. It's the day after Christmas. Traditionally, you box up your old things and give them to someone who needs them."

"So, it has nothing to do with hitting people?"

[If that was the case, Reese would have a field day.]

"No, Malcolm. Why would you think that?. . . Reese? . . . I'll remind Gran not to mention the holiday."

"Neville," Malcolm called as the older boy turned to leave, "There's one other problem. The Malfoys have asked if Draco can stay with my family while they go away."

Neville changed colors from red to white to red, as numerous emotions played over his face. He finally settled on a light crimson, and said throatily, "That will be fine. We'll seat him at the end of the table, next to Reese." He then walked off as though he were a staggering drunk.

"Malcolm," Draco called out, as the young Gryffindor stood in the entrance of the Great Hall. "I couldn't do it. I'm trapped. Please tell me that Reese isn't that bad?"

"He is," Malcolm assured the Slytherin, "but remember, my parents will be there, as well as my brother, Francis. With you there as well, we outnumber him five to one."

As Draco sighed with relief, Malcolm added, "I should tell you, for Boxing Day we're going over to the Longbottoms for dinner."

"Just hex me to death, Malcolm. Please. This Christmas can't get any worse."

"Malcolm," Ginny called from behind, causing the young Gryffindor to jump out of his skin in the entrance of the Great Hall. "Dewey told me about how he is always afraid of you and your brothers, so I've sent an owl to my mum, and yours, asking if I could spend the holidays, instead of staying here. I promised Dewey he would have at least one happy Christmas."

"That's good, Ginny," Malcolm replied, "By the time the three of us come back, You'll want to help us kill him."

Ginny noticed Draco at that point, and Draco waved his hand and smiled. Her anger became confusion tinted with fear. "What do you mean, the three of us? Oh no. How could I forget so quickly?"

Malcolm said nothing but shrugged her shoulders. Ginny took a deep breath, and said, "I'm doing this for little Dewey, I'm doing this for little Dewey."

"I'd like to do a few things TO that little runt," Professor Snape said as he walked past.

Draco acted on the moment, and said graciously, "You can sit next to me, when we go to Neville's house for dinner."

"Maybe Professor Snape knows how to get owls to come back," Ginny said hopefully, "Maybe mum will say no. Maybe your mum will say no. Maybe I'll . . ."

"Have a pleasant holiday," Professor Dumbledore said, finishing Ginny's sentence. "If I may ask, what plans have the three of you made for the holidays?"

"I think we're making a suicide pact," Malcolm said with a smile, as Ginny and Draco nodded.

"I have always admired American humor," Dumbledore said. "And if I heard correctly, the three of you will be spending Christmas together. It makes my heart glad to see students from rival houses sharing good times with each other. Too often, students neglect to even say anything nice about someone who is not in their own house."

"How very true, Professor," Draco said, with an innocent smile, "I do believe Ginny was going to pay me a compliment, just as you appeared. Would you like to hear it?"

"Why, I would indeed," the headmaster said, with genuine surprise.

Ginny shot daggers through her eyes, and said, "All I was saying, Professor, was that Malfoy was kind of cute, for an insufferable git." The last word was almost spat out.

"Did you hear that, Professor?" Draco said, "she thinks I'm cute." Turning to Ginny, he said, "If you would ever like to go out together, I promise to be a perfect gentleman."

"And why would I ever want to go out with you?" Ginny asked with a snarl.

Draco grinned innocently, and said, "Perhaps you might wish to annoy your brother. I would be more than happy to help you in that task."

Ginny returned the grin, saying, "Draco, that is a very nice offer. I will have to keep you in mind."

"How marvelous," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands, "Two students working to find a common ground on which they can relate. All I ask is to be informed, so that I may watch the proceedings." Chuckling softly, he wished the students a happy holiday, and left.

[This is definitely going to be a strange Christmas, especially if these two are going to be nice to each other.]

"You'll have to excuse me, Malcolm," Ginny said, "It's a Hogsmeade weekend, and the twins are doing some shopping for me. I need to add a couple of presents to the list."

As the two boys watched her leave, Draco said, "I will have to go as well. I need to choose at least one gift very carefully."

Malcolm began walking back to the common room, when Neville stopped him. His eyes flew up as Malcolm told him about the new guest, and how she and Draco were being nice to each other. "It's true. Dumbledore was even there. Ginny told Draco that she thought he was cute. Then Draco asked her out on a date."

"I don't believe this," Neville said, "She didn't say Yes?"

"No, but then she didn't say No either. She said she would have to think about it, because of her brother."

"I'll. . . I'll have to talk to Gran again. I suppose it will not be a problem. We can always seat them together." Then Neville added hastily, "Whatever you do, don't tell Ron. He'll have a fit. He hates Malfoy. I mean, I hate Malfoy, and, until today, I thought you were the only Gryffindor who didn't hate him."

Malcolm couldn't help but smile to himself, as Neville walked away.

[I can feel it. This is going to be the best Christmas ever. I don't even care about the presents, anymore. I wish I could go directly to Boxing Day. I think I should tell Fred and George.]

  
  


The train pulled into Kings Cross Station, and the motley crew departed. Neville, with great relief, fled the scene, while the erstwhile trio waited for their ride. As they watched, a gray-haired man approached, introducing himself as David Winter, with the American Government. "I understand you are in for an interesting vacation," he said to the two English students. "Your ministry tells me that both of you are from wizarding families, and have not had much contact with muggles. I'm sure you are both excited."

"Can we just get this over with?" Draco asked, with annoyance.

"Certainly," Mr. Winter said in surprise, "I suppose train stations are very annoying."

"Look, Mister," Ginny said, "We're going to Malcolm's house for Christmas. We just want to get it over with."

Mr. Winter sputtered. This was not the happy trio of friends he expected to meet. He produced the portkey, and everyone grabbed hold. In seconds, the four of them were in a business office. "We'll drive you home from here. It would look rather strange if all of you suddenly appeared at Malcolm's home."

"I doubt that," Draco said, miserably.

"You don't know Malcolm's family, do you?" Ginny asked.

"Of course I do," Mr. Winter said, "That is why I'm making it a point to have someone drive you."

"He means someone else, Ginny," Malcolm said. " He really does know my family."

Draco laughed. "And does he know we're fellow inmates at the Hogwarts Academy for Emotional Dysfunctional Students."

"Your car is ready," David Winter said, smiling sincerely, "You can leave now."

The three students were escorted to the car. It was a novel experience for Draco, who spent most of the time playing with the power windows, mostly because it annoyed the driver.

"You three go to Hogwarts, I understand," the driver said. "I hear that's a prestigious institution."

Annoyed, Ginny said, "It's a medical institution. We're on parental release for the holidays."

"Medical?" The driver asked curiously.

"Mental Health wing," Malcolm said, following Ginny's lead. "They're going to see how we do on our own for a few days. It's going to be great. No medication."

"Oh, how nice," the driver said, as nervousness crept into his voice.

Draco lowered all four windows at once, asking, "does this bother you?"

"N-N-No," the driver said, carefully.

"I'm happy to hear that," Draco said, "the doctor tells me it's important to be happy."

Draco grinned broadly as the first beads of sweat appeared on the man's forehead.

  
  


"That driver was out of here like a shot. Malcolm, what did you do?" Lois asked.

"Mom, I've been away for over three months. What makes you think I did anything?"

"Malcolm. What Did You Do!"

"We told him that Hogwarts was a nuthouse."

"Are you crazy? Malcolm, why did you tell him a thing like that?"

[Wow. Mom hasn't lost her touch at all. I spilled the beans in less than three seconds.]

"OK, Malcolm, into the kitchen. You can show your friends what to do."

  
  


"No, Ginny," Malcolm said from a kneeling position, "You have to interlock your fingers, then you put your hands behind your head."

"It's hard keeping my back straight," Draco said.

"You get used to it after a couple of days," Malcolm said. "Just remember. Keep kneeling, back straight, hands behind the head."

"How long do we have to do this?" Ginny asked.

"We get bathroom breaks every two hours," Malcolm said.

"Welcome Home, Malcolm," Hal said as he walked in the back door. "And these are your friends?"

"Hi, Dad. This is Draco, and this is Ginny."

"Nice to meet you. And Ginny, don't lean your head against the wall. It's considered cheating."

"Reprieve," Lois shouted. "David called to say the driver was fine. And Malcolm, I promised David you would help his driver wash his car tomorrow. "

"But that's Christmas Eve," Malcolm complained.

"Then get an early start," Lois told him.

"Hi there," Reese said as he walked up to Ginny, "I understand, you're a friend of my brother. Are you a close friend."

"She's with me," Dewey called out.

"I can hit him for you," Reese told Ginny in his suavest voice.

"I already have a boyfriend," she said, snidely, reaching sideways to grab Malcolm's hand.

"I don't believe this," Reese said, turning to Draco, "I thought we could hang out together."

Ginny looked down to see she had grabbed Draco's hand by mistake, and that Malcolm was gone. Then she looked at Draco and saw an evil glint in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Reese," Draco said, "but three is a crowd."

"I don't know," Reese said, "you don't act like you go out together."

"Sorry, Reese," Ginny said, nervously, "but we do. We're very close."

Reese sensed the hesitation in Ginny's voice, the way a predator senses fear in his prey. "Prove you're his girlfriend," Reese dared. "I don't believe you."

Draco put his arm around her and whispered, "If you like, I'll let go, and you can deal with Reese on your own." When Ginny said nothing, Draco said to Reese, "Her brothers don't care for me, Reese. She's nervous about people finding out."

"I can understand," Reese said, "I know what my brothers would do if they found out about my girlfriend."

"Malcolm, Francis," Dewey called out, "Reese has a girlfriend."

Instantly, Dewey was sprinting through the house with Reese after him, leaving their two guests in the kitchen.

The two laughed, then turned to see Malcolm walk in the back door, with his brother, Francis.

"You can let go of me now," Ginny told Draco.

  
  


"My little brother's a wizard," Francis said , ruffling Malcolm's hair.

Malcolm laughed, saying, "It's a great place. Nothing is ever normal. Even the staircase move around. I get into trouble for the simplest things, but if I plan anything, I always seem to get away with it. It's like they do it deliberately."

"Malcolm, Who's the girl?"

"That's Ginny. She's the one who first told me I was a wizard. I make her nervous sometimes, but she's a good friend."

"She's not serious with anyone, is she?"

"She's only twelve, Francis. She likes me because I'm like a baby brother to her. As for Draco, she can't stand him. You'll like her though. Let me introduce you."

Going inside, they saw Draco and Ginny, arm in arm, laughing.

[I don't understand this. They hate each other.]

  
  



	12. The Thot Plickens

Chapter 12: The Thot Plickens 

Draco and Ginny tried using several excuses to get away from Reese. He had been good for a little while, but began bothering them about not being close. They were each forced to choose between spending time together, or taking a chance that Reese would choose the other one to spend time with. Reese thought they should be more affectionate, and Draco made several plans to kill Reese and hide the body.

It was Francis, who saved the day. He pointed out the flaws in every plan that Draco made. He also pointed out how to solve the problem with Reese. "Look," Francis told them, "Reese just wants to see if you two really like each other. He's convinced that you're only pretending, as an excuse to keep him away."

"We are only pretending," Ginny said, "And we are doing it as an excuse to keep him away."

"It isn't working," Francis said, "but I know what will convince him, if both of you are willing to give it a try." He paused and added, "It's a bit dramatic but it will convince Reese to leave the two of you alone. Here's the plan. Tomorrow, the two of you take a walk. . ."

  
  


"They fell for it," Reese said, happily, "They really believe I don't know the truth?"

"Completely," Francis said, "Ginny was a bit nervous, but I convinced her it was just a little kiss, but the timing had to be right. Draco thought it was funny."

"Francis, it's great to have you back," Reese said, "I would never have thought of it. What time will that girl be there?"

  
  


"Are you nervous?" Draco asked, as they walked down the street, holding hands.

"Only about someone seeing us," Ginny said.

"Isn't that the point?" Draco asked. "Sorry, I know what you mean. I'd never survive the stories of me being seen with a Weasel. Sorry, again, a Weasley."

Ginny laughed at Draco's apology, "Can you guess what they would say if they saw me with you. I think you'd get the better of the deal." She shook her head and muttered, "I don't believe I agreed to do this."

"Here's the spot," Draco said, pointing to a small grove of trees. "Do you think you can kiss me well enough?"

"That won't be a problem," Ginny said, putting her arms around Draco's neck. "The only thing I'll be thinking about is that Malcolm's brother will never bother me again."

"What a beautiful thought," Draco said, with a smile. He put his arms around her, and they touched lips. Almost immediately, they heard Francis tell Reese to leave the lovebirds in peace. Then a voice from the other side of the grove said, "Draco, is that you?"

Draco broke the kiss to turn and look at the new voice. It was Pansy Parkinson. "We were visiting relatives in the States and found out you would be here," she said, babbling, as her parents stood behind her, glaring. "But I didn't expect to find you here with . . . Oh, Mother, He's kissing GINNY WEASLEY."

As Mrs. Parkinson led her tearful daughter away, Mr. Parkinson approach the two students. "This is how you play with my daughter's affections?" He shouted, as a small crowd gathered. "I'll have words with your father, Draco Malfoy. I'll, I'll . . . " Mr. Parkinson stormed off in a rage.

"If it's any help, you are a great kisser," Ginny said, as she removed her arms from his neck.

"I've decided," Draco said, "I want to kill the entire family."

"On Christmas Eve?" asked Ginny.

"No, No," Draco assured her, "I'll wait to see if I get any presents first."

"That . . . was quite . . . a show," Stevie said.

Draco looked down at the small black boy in the wheelchair. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"You . . . go to school . . . with Malcolm," Stevie said, "I thought . . . I . . . could help . . . you." He nodded to an approaching figure.

Christine Miller walked up to them, and asked, in an unkind voice, "What do the two of you think you're doing? Don't you know that you are on school grounds?"

"It's . . . because of . . . me, Miss. . . . Miller," Stevie said. "I asked . . . them . . . to show me . . . how to kiss."

"Oh, that's all right then," Christine said in a voice that said the exact opposite.

"We are sorry to cause any problems," Draco said, his accent drawing attention. "We're only here on a visit."

"Yes, Ma'am," Ginny added, "we go to school with Malcolm. Do you know him?"

"I have to admit," Draco said, as the lady ran away, "That was an odd reaction."

"No," Stevie said, "That was. . .completely. . .normal."

"You're Stevie, then," Draco said, "Malcolm told me about you."

The two shook hands, and Draco introduced Ginny. " My. . .pleasure," Stevie said, "Are you. . .enjoying. . .your stay. . .here?"

Ginny looked at Draco and said, "No. I've just been forced to kiss someone I really can't stand. But at least Reese will leave me alone, now."

"Please. let me apologize," Draco said testily, "I believe you were the one who said it was a good idea."

"If you're so smart," Ginny snapped back, "why didn't you think of a better one?"

"It would be my fault," Draco sneered, "your poor family couldn't afford to take responsibility for anything."

"You hypocritical. . ." Ginny began.

"I see. . .Reese," Stevie called out.

Draco and Ginny stopped arguing and looked around. "Just . . . checking," Stevie said.

The giving of presents was orderly, which was a major surprise. Malcolm's gifts were curiosities from the magical world, with their own surprises. David Winter, from the Department of Magic, made several appearances, when Reese continued to believe his brother that "all the rest of the candies are ordinary toffees." Eventually, he confiscated the remaining Ton-Tongue Toffees, so that he could enjoy the holidays with his own family. Dewey tried out a canary cream, and was delighted. Hal took two of them, and looked at Lois, who said, "No."

"It could be fun," Hal suggested.

"Well, Later," Lois said.

Ginny opened up her present from Draco to find a Silver ring, engraved to look like a serpent. "It was supposed to be a joke," Draco whispered, but it didn't make Ginny feel any better. She put on her happy face and thanked Draco, and put the ring on her finger.

Draco opened his gift with trepidation. Weasley humor tended towards the crude, and he half expected a dung bomb to go off in his face. Instead, he found a picture of Ginny, surrounded by her brothers. She was blowing him a kiss. It was the worst gift he had ever received in his life. Oh, Ginny," he said, "It's such a smashing picture."

"My brothers thought you would like it," Ginny said, with a grin.

Draco cringed as he heard Reese say, "They do make a great couple."

"I've got the perfect frame, Draco," offered Lois, "Let me show it to you."

As they walked into the kitchen, Lois turned around and confronted the boy. "That was a stupid thing you did today. If Reese was bothering you, why didn't you tell me?" Draco tried to mouth a few words, but Lois continued, "Don't give me any lame excuses. I swear to God, you have no more brains in you than any of my own children. Why did the two of you kiss in public like that?"

"Well. . .I thought. . ." Draco said half-heartedly.

"Like I'm going to believe that." Lois said in an angry voice. "Well. Here's your frame, little mister, and before you go to bed tonight, you're taking a long cold shower, and don't even think about touching the hot water."

"Yes, Ma'am," Draco said.

"One more thing, Draco," Lois said, "If you don't like her, why did you kiss her?"

"Uh, I think I'll be looking forward to that cold shower."

Lois grinned broadly as the first beads of sweat appeared on Draco's forehead.

"I'm not done with you yet," she said.

  
  


"The fire's ready," Hal said, as he looked into the new fireplace.

"That's good," said Draco, "I'm still cold."

"Reese, Francis, get in here," Lois called.

Everyone, in turn, called out the Longbottom address and stepped into the fireplace. The last two were Lois and Ginny.

"I gave Draco an excuse not to bother you," Lois said to the young girl. "You don't need to pretend about anything, now."

Ginny expressed her thanks and then asked a question of her own. "When Draco kissed me, it felt almost nice. What if I really liked him?"

"That's easy," Lois answered, "beat him down until he'll do anything you want. If you can't get him to do that, he's not worth it."

With a laugh, Ginny leaped into the fireplace. She already knew that Draco wasn't worth it.

"Hello, Love," Draco said when she came out of the fireplace. "Did you know that Neville already knew all about us? It seems almost everyone here knows we are a couple"

"How? Ginny asked, fearful of the answer.

"Well," Draco drawled, "Father has already talked with Mr. Parkinson, and we may have made the gossip column of the Daily Prophet. But, according to Neville, our mutual friend Malcolm decided to start rumors before we ever left school. They've even arranged for us to be seated together."

"Isn't this a wonderful place?" Malcolm asked as he approached his former friends.

"We're going to kill you, Malcolm," Ginny said, "Neville let slip about your rumors."

"I was only having fun," Malcolm said defensively. "I never told the two of you to attack each others tonsils."

"That is not true," Ginny shouted, "Draco did not stick his tongue in my mouth."

She paused as the room became silent. Ginny realized that everyone in the room, and possibly the entire house, had heard her shout. Glaring at her fellow Gryffindor, she said, in frustration, "I hate you, Malcolm." She began to cry, and turned around, falling onto the shoulder of the person nearest her. Draco put his arms around the sobbing girl, trying to make himself invisible, while everyone around him politely turned away. If only he could think of a diversion. But he didn't have to. Reese was there.

"You sure have a nice place," Reese said to Gran, "most old people I know live in dumps."

"Thank you, Reese," Gran said, "for that kind remark."

[I know what you're thinking but, for Reese, that is a compliment.]

  
  


"Hi," Francis said, "I'm new here, and I could use some help."

A girl his age turned around and said, "You are kind of cute. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Hopefully," Francis said, as they walked off together.

  
  


"Malcolm, how serious are Ginny and Draco," Neville asked. "I've heard my uncles talking about them. I thought it was a joke at first, but now I don't know."

"It was a joke at first," Malcolm said, "They told me they still hate each other, but then they got caught near my old school, kissing. Look at them. She's still wearing the ring he gave her."

"At least she stopped crying," Neville said, "I've never seen Draco so rattled. I almost feel sorry for him." He paused to watch Malfoy kiss Ginny on the cheek, then added, hastily, "Would you like to meet my relatives? I can introduce you to my great-uncle. He accidently dropped me out of a second story window, once."

"I wouldn't brag about that," Malcolm said.

"It's all right, I bounced all the way down the driveway," Neville said, with a laugh, "I was literally a bouncing baby boy."

  
  


"Are you feeling better?" Draco asked.

"Yes, but I wish I could get this ring off," Ginny said, "As long as I wear it, people will believe those rumors."

"I told you it was only stuck," Draco said, "the only spell on it is to repel magic spells. Did you try using soap?"

"Yes, I did," Ginny said, "but thanks to you, I had to take a cold shower, and it didn't help at all. What should I do?"

Draco sighed, "Why don't we make a deal. Everyone already thinks we're dating. So why don't we go along with it. For the rest of the night, we'll be a couple."

"Why?" Ginny asked, warily. 

"Because I'm tired of all this fighting and pretending, and, here, I'm a fish out of water." Draco answered, "For one night, I would like to put aside all of our differences, and try to have a good time. I promised you before, I would be the perfect gentleman. And I promise never to tell anyone."

"I should walk away, and let you founder on your own," Ginny said, then stopped to look at Draco. He looked to her like a lost puppy dog. "Okay," Ginny said, "but how far do we go with this?"

"What would annoy Malcolm the most?" Draco said, cheering up.

"Then we agree," Ginny said as they both laughed.

"I know a perfect way to start," Draco said, and whispered something.

"That was clever," Ginny said, smiling,"and what made you think of that?"

"Neville and Malcolm are watching us," Draco said, "and I think you scared them with your crying fit." He then gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  
  


"Malcolm," Reese called as his brother walked past, "This is Steve, he lives only five miles from us. Do you believe that?"

"Hello, Malcolm," Steve said, "My cousin, Neville, tells me that you go to Hogwarts. How did you manage that? I thought you would have gone to Brentwood, since we live in the same neighborhood." 

"It was Reese," Malcolm said, unsure of what was going on. "He found some tickets to the Hogwarts express, and insisted we check it out. That's how we met Gran, your Aunt. . ."

"My Great Aunt, actually," Steve corrected.

"Yeah, she is great," Reese agreed.

Malcolm watched as the two shared a laugh, then continued, "Well, Gran pulled a few strings, and by the time I arrived at the school they had already agreed to let me stay."

"That's wonderful, Reese," Steve said, "Malcolm must be proud to have a brother like you. Let me introduce you to some of my other cousins."

[Is it me? He makes Reese sound intelligent. I must be losing it.]

As Malcolm walked away, he passed by his father, who was talking to some wizards about sports, saying, ". . .My experience is mostly with stock cars, a muggle sport, but the principle is the same, you have to hang low, to eliminate as much air resistance as possible. If you wear a cap or a rounded helmet, it cuts down on air resistance, and you can fly faster."

"Exactly my point," said one of the wizards, "and that is what Periwinkle is doing. He'll revolutionize racing. A fast broom won't be enough anymore."

"But, honestly," another wizard said., "The pointed hat is racing normal. Changing headgear is not proper form."

"Well, Cosgrove tried the new hat," the first wizard said, "and won his race, even though he had the lowest rated broom in the pack."

"You see," Hal said, "in a couple of years, everyone will be changing, and racing will get better. . ."

Malcolm walked away, shaking his head in amazement.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Malcolm," Gran asked as he walked by

"I'm confused, Gran," he admitted, "Reese is walking around acting like he has a brain. My dad is talking sports as though he's known those people for years, and my mom is acting happy. It's like we were a normal family. Even Ginny and Draco are having a good time together,"

Malcolm pointed, just as someone told the couple that they were standing under some mistletoe. They laughed and gave each other a quick kiss, as someone took their picture.

"They hate each other," Malcolm said. "They shouldn't be acting like that."

Gran smiled, and said, "Maybe they decided to have a good time in spite of their differences. I know Draco's family and, while I don't like them, they have always been socially proper. Don't worry about them. After all, this dinner party is for you."

"Me?" Malcolm asked in a confused voice.

"Yes, Dear," I admit I took a liking to your family at once, even Reese. I decided to use this occasion to invite the entire Longbottom clan, and give you a good view of what life will be like for you in the future." Gran smiled slightly, and said, "I did it for myself, to be honest. I used you as the excuse. We haven't had a reunion like this since. . .Neville was a baby."

Gran led Malcolm to a small group of children his age and introduced him. She then left to circulate among the guests.

"I'm ten," one girl said, "I'll be going to Hogwarts next year. Neville told me I have to face down a troll in order to get in. Is that true."

Malcolm smiled and told her no. "It changes every year. I had to confront a wild hippogryph. I almost didn't get in."

"What will they make us do?" a boy asked.

"I'm not sure," Malcolm said, "I heard rumors about having you sail across a lake where a giant squid lives."

"I go to Beauxbatons," another girl said, "and we don't have such ridiculous tests. I did have to create a rhyming spell, though. That was much more difficult."

  
  


"Are you ready to go," Francis asked as he, and a young lady, walked up.

"You must be Malcolm," the lady said. "Francis told me how proud he is of you."

"Thank You," Malcolm said politely.

"Those are wonderful robes you have, Malcolm," the lady said, "Where did you get them?"

"They were a gift," Malcolm said carefully.

She turned to Francis, and said, "You really are a generous soul. I may take you up on that ride in your airplane, after all."

"Any time," said Francis, "just send me an owl, and I'll pick you up."

As the young lady left, Malcolm asked, "What are you going to do if she writes you."

"They never write, Malcolm," Francis told him, "They just want something to talk about to their friends." 

[At least Francis is still normal.]

"Where's Dewey?"

"He fell asleep playing with the house gnome. Mom already took him home."

"And Draco and Ginny?"

"They're telling stories to each other about their childhoods. Reese is right. They are a couple of cute kids. Oh, and an owl came for you. Here's the letter."

Malcolm opened the letter and read, "Happy Holidays. 215 and counting down." It was signed, "Camilla."


	13. The Wizard Weekly

A/N I like to confuse people but (I still love that word) I should mention that Camilla is a reference to a remark Malcolm made earlier in the story (Diagon Alley to be exact). Camilla will be owling Malcolm on an irregular basis. In Malcolm's second year, I will also reveal her last name. (How exciting, I here you say.) I debated mentioning this, simply because I really do enjoy confusing people.

I apologize to nell for not having Francis blow anything up. I will try to amend that fault.

And to one reviewer who tried to correct me, a house elf is a servant and would not take time out, at a dinner party, to play with one of the guests. It was a house gnome, a domesticated cousin of the garden gnome. As to dinner, the conversation was boring, so I left it out. I assure you, Ariana, that they did eat, but since I wasn't invited I have no idea what was on the menu.

  
  
  
  
Chapter 13: The Wizard Weekly 

[This has been a great vacation. I really missed being around my family. We got to go to a big party, and everyone acted nice to each other. It was great. Strange, but great. Ginny is still upset seeing Mom shave Dad's back, but Draco acts like one of the family now. He really fits in.]

"I told you to stop HITTING me," Reese said, as he hit Draco in the shoulder.

"I told YOU to stop hitting me," Draco said as he hit Reese in the shoulder.

"I told you to STOP hitting me," Reese said as he hit Draco in the shoulder.

"I TOLD you to stop hitting me," Draco said as he hit Reese in the shoulder.

[Do you see what I mean?]

  
  


"Good Morning," Malcolm said as Ginny walked into the kitchen. "You've got some mail." He handed her the package and she opened it.

"Has Draco seen this?" Ginny asked in horror.

"Seen what?" Malcolm asked.

Ginny showed him what was in the package: The latest edition of Wizard Weekly, (What Wizards in the world are doing this week). The cover picture was of Ginny and Draco under the mistletoe. They would look up. Ginny would giggle. They would gently kiss. Then they would both blush. The headline read, "Puppy Love in Full Bloom."

"That is one great picture," Malcolm said, "You'll be famous, now."

"Who'll be famous?" Draco asked as he walked in.

Ginny showed him the magazine, as Malcolm said, "I'm guessing that the other package is your copy."

"This is terrible," Draco said, "now father will be delighted."

[Okay. I'm lost on this one. I have to play the straight man on this.]

"Why is that a problem? If it was me, my mom would kill me?"

"Malcolm," Draco said, "it's not that simple. Father actually suggested that I try to seduce Ginny, as a way of breaking up the Weasley family. In case you noticed, we can't stand each other. The last thing I want is to try and get her to like me."

"Right," Malcolm said, "and why isn't Ginny upset at hearing this?"

"He told me about it when we were at Neville's house," Ginny said. "The one thing about Draco is that if he makes a promise, he keeps it, at least to me he has. But Draco doesn't have to worry. My parents will probably ground me until I graduate."

"Malcolm, you're smart, what do I do," Draco pleaded. "I don't want to hurt Ginny."

"Wait a minute, Draco," Malcolm said, "You just told me you don't like her. Why should you care if she gets hurt."

"Because she's a real person," Draco said angrily, "She isn't some one-dimensional clown like Potter or his sidekicks, and that makes a difference."

"That does it," Lois said, coming into the room. She grabbed the magazine and opened it. "Why don't we read the article and see how bad it is?"

  
  
LONGBOTTOM GALA DISPLAYS YOUNG LOVE. 

Where we ever this young? For the first time in over a decade, the Longbottom Family opened their house for the holidays. Family and friends, old and new, gathered on Boxing Day to share the holiday spirit. The surprise guest of the evening was the Malfoy heir, Draco, 13, who escorted Ginny Weasley, 12, the youngest child of Arthur Weasley, of the Bureau of Muggle Artifacts.

It is known that the two families sit on opposite sides of the political fence, and that there are strong personal feelings on both sides. That these two should arrive together was a surprise, but only the first surprise. The second surprise was their behavior. Never had two young people behaved so properly. Both were polite, friendly and courteous to everyone. Ginny Weasley confided to this reporter that "Draco promised to be the perfect gentleman, and he kept his word." Draco did display the famous Malfoy pride, but it was all directed at the young girl he was with.

Friends were also surprised by their behavior. A classmate admitted that he did not expect the two of them "to last five minutes together." The young host, Neville Longbottom, did admit that this was not a sudden thing. He was aware of their relationship before the holidays began, and interceded with his Grandmother to have both of them invited.

The third surprise is the reaction of their parents, whom this reporter unknowingly informed. Lucius Malfoy was happy that his son had found someone. "My wife and I first dated at the same age, and I have to admit that her father did not like me, at first."

Arthur Weasley shared similar views. "I don't like the father, but I won't condemn the son for that. And I trust Ginny to make the right choices."

As for the two lovebirds, this may be the beginning of a long and wonderful relationship, or it may end up as a case of puppy love, and it will all be over by the time you read this. This one night, though, is a testament to the power of love, and I find myself asking, "Were we ever this young?"

Caption: Cover photo. Ginny and Draco under the mistletoe. Both later admitted it was not their first kiss.

Caption: The young couple dancing. Notice the ring on her finger. It was a Christmas gift, and Ginny tells us she "can't take it off." As this magazine goes to bed, she is still wearing it.

Caption: By the fireplace. The couple shares an intimate conversation as the evening winds down.

Caption: Unimpressed, this boy catches up on his sleep with a new friend.

  
  


"Look, Malcolm," Lois said, "Doesn't Dewey look cute with that little gnome curled up on his chest."

"Yeah, Mom," he admitted, then yelled out, "Hey, Dewey, Your picture's in a magazine. Check it out."

"Let me see," Dewey yelled, running into the now crowded kitchen. "This is great. Can I keep it? Thanks." He took the magazine and ran off.

[That was something. Dewey is the first one in the family to get his picture in the paper without a policeman standing next to him.]

"My parents know," Ginny said miserably, "They're going to kill me."

"No, they won't," Lois told her, "You'll just tell them the truth, that you were making the best of a bad situation, and they'll believe you."

"But there is a picture of me kissing Draco."

"True. And you were dumb enough to admit it wasn't the first time," Lois agreed, "But you'll live. I'd worry more about when you go back to school."

"You'll just have to break up," Malcolm said.

"Ginny, I told you he was smart," Draco said, "Malcolm, how do we do it?"

"I don't know. Have a fight in front of a bunch of people, and Ginny can give you back the ring."

"Malcolm, I can't even get the ring off. What do I do in the meantime?"

"We can figure something out on the train back to Hogwarts," Malcolm offered, "I'm going to say goodbye to Stevie before I leave."

"That's a great idea," Ginny said, "Can we come. We never thanked him properly for helping us out."

As the three left, Lois shook her head in laughter. Those two kids hated each other the way she hated Hal. She turned to Reese, who had been sitting quietly the entire time, and said, "You are now permitted to move."

  
  


"Are you three ready?" David Winter asked as he held out the portkey.

"That's a different portkey," Malcolm pointed out.

"Very good, Malcolm," Mr. Winter said, "a different portkey for a different destination. It's nice to know that you're learning something useful."

"Excuse me," asked Ginny, "if we're not going back to catch the Hogwarts Express, where are we going to."

"Ah, you've forgotten the time difference," Mr. Winter said. "I'm taking you directly to Hogsmeade station. The train is due to arrive in about twenty minutes." Four hands grabbed the portkey, and they were at the train station.

"Have fun," David Winter said, and vanished as he smiled for the first time.

"You did a great job, Malcolm," Draco said, "now we don't have a plan."

"What I don't understand," Malcolm said, as they walked back to the school, "Is why you didn't tell my folks about Reese. Even Francis would have helped, if you had asked."

"We did ask Francis," Ginny said, "It was his idea to go to that park and kiss each other. How were we to know that Pansy Parkinson would show up.?"

"How about from the owl she sent?" Malcolm asked, "Or didn't Francis give you the message?"

"Wait a minute," Draco said, "You and your brothers knew Pansy was coming by?" Awareness dawned as Malcolm's smile grew. "Your brother's set us up," Draco yelled.

  
  


"Good Morning, Malcolm," Madam Pomfrey said, as the boy woke up in the infirmary. "That was a bad fall you took, and right on your face. Don't worry about the swelling. We did that to help your teeth go back in properly. We also fixed that crooked one on the bottom row, and cleaned out your filling. Your teeth grew back without a problem.

"Dank yoo, Mammam Pomfwey," Malcolm said.

"Off to breakfast, Malcolm. You'll be fine by lunchtime."

She shook her head as the boy left. She would swear that Draco had hit him. There was a distinct impression of a serpent on Malcolm's chin, but Draco wasn't wearing a ring, and Malcolm claimed that he didn't remember what happened.

  
  


Draco waited for Ginny before entering the Great Hall for breakfast. They agreed to face the situation together, as the entire school was now gossiping about them. As they walked in, Pansy Parkinson walked up to Draco, and saved the day.

"I can't believe you are walking in here with that tramp," Pansy said to Draco, as everyone watched.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said angrily, "I didn't mean to steal your boyfriend."

Pansy laughed, saying, "Draco isn't my boyfriend, but he is a Slytherin, and we stick together. He has no reason to shame our house by showing up with trash like you."

"That's enough, Pansy," Draco said, losing his temper.

"Yes it is," Pansy yelled, with several Slytherins agreeing with her attitude. "Who told you to date someone like her, anyway."

Draco smiled inwardly, at that remark. His problem was solved when he answered, "Why don't you guess?"

Pansy paled as he said that. "Draco, I didn't think."

"It doesn't matter," Draco said, not too loudly. He smiled at the thought of people having to ask what he said. It would go over better. "Now that Ginny knows what I was doing, we no longer have a relationship." With complete sincerity he said, "Thank you, Pansy," and walked to the Slytherin table alone.

Pansy looked abashed as Ginny smiled at her. "Thank you, Pansy," Ginny said with equal sincerity, and walked to the Gryffindor table. As she sat down, everyone began asking questions. Ginny told them about how Draco tried to fool her, but since she was stuck with him, she made the best of it. Her favorite part was when they asked her why she was wearing the ring. She was forced to admit that it wouldn't come off. Draco, meanwhile, was talking about how close he came to fooling her completely.

Malcolm walked in, and Ginny stopped him to apologize.

"At's ohay," Malcolm said, through his swollen jaw. "Mammam Pomfwey says I be fine by wunch."

"Thank you, Malcolm," Ginny said smiling. She explained to him what had happened, adding, "I still want a little more revenge. Could you tell Draco something for me, and make sure Pansy Parkinson hears?"

"I' wuv to hewp," Malcolm said, and Ginny whispered what she wanted him to say. Malcolm walked over to the Slytherin table, and said loudly, "Dwaco, Ginny wanded me to dell yoo, she dinks yoo awe a weawy weawy gweat kissah."

[Why is evwyone waughing?]

  
  


Ginny smiled as Malcolm came in for lunch. "You wook better," she said.

"Thank you for telling me I sounded like Elmer Fudd," Malcolm said as he set down.

EJ, sitting close by, said, "Be vewy vewy quiet, Malcolm is tawking."

Malcolm gritted his teeth at the round of laughter.

"I do have a serious question," Ginny said after a while. "Hagrid has been complaining that Buckbeak hasn't been eating properly. I thought you might know what was up. I know you were sneaking food to him during your detentions, but now that you've stopped, the hippogryph is eating less."

"I don't know," Malcolm said, "I talked one of the house elves into bringing him muffins, but that shouldn't change anything."

After classes, the two made their way to the kitchens to confront the elf in question. As they entered, Dobby ran over and said, "Friend Malcolm, welcome back. Poor Dobby does not deserve friends like you."

"We wanted to ask you about Buckbeak," Malcolm said, "Have you been giving him muffins like I asked you?"

"Dobby has," Dobby answered, "one cranberry muffin every evening after dark. And Dobby has done more. He has given him one blueberry muffin as well, and one pumpkin seed muffin, he likes those too, and one raisin. . ."

"Dobby," Ginny interupted, "How many muffins are you giving him."

"Never more than eight, or twelve, friend of Malcolm," Dobby said, "and Buckbeak lets Dobby ride when he takes his evening exercise."

"That explains why he's not eating," Malcolm said as they left the kitchen. "He's already full."

"How does he fly about?" Ginny asked, "The hippogryph is tied up?"

"Actually I found a way around that," Malcolm said, "I put a charm on him, so he can remove the tethers himself, and put them back on."

"Malcolm, that's very clever of you, but why doesn't Buckbeak escape? He must know what's going on."

"He's too proud. He won't run away, even if the worst happens."

Ginny pondered this and asked if they could figure out a way to get the hippogryph to leave.

"I told Dumbledore what I did," Malcolm said. "He promised to work on the problem. We'll have to trust him to come up with something. He also told me not to tell anybody."

"Then I won't tell anyone either," Ginny promised.

"Ginny," Malcolm asked before they got back to the common room, "Do you like Draco?"

Ginny smiled and said, "I like hating him, if you can understand that. I like what he could be, but I hate what I think he will be. There's too much between us for us ever to be friends, but I know him too well, now, to despise him the way Ron does. He can still be an obnoxious person at times."

"That's true," Malcolm said with a laugh.

"Malcolm," Ginny asked, "when we were at the Longbottom's, Draco told me a few things, personal things. I hated him a lot for what happened last year, but I found out that he didn't really know anything about it until it was all over."

"About what?" Malcolm asked.

Ginny looked at him, and sighed, "I'll tell you later, in private. I only wanted to say that I'm confused about him. What should I do?"

"Ginny, I'm a year younger than you, and the opposite sex. Ask my mom or somebody like that."

"I already have," Ginny said, laughing wryly. "Tell me, Malcolm, why do you like Draco?"

Malcolm gave a wry smile, and said, "It's weird, because Draco always sticks up for me."

"Sticks up for you? How?"

"He tells people things about me. I don't know what, but they start to treat me differently. For example, Marcus Flint came up to me and said I was all right in his book. And he wasn't the only one. Draco is a lot like Reese."

"I'd agree with that," Ginny said, "but you make it sound like a good thing."

"In a way. My brothers and I were being punished last year, and Reese slipped and said he had to beat up kids at least twice a week for making fun of me."

"And why would they make fun of you, or shouldn't I ask."

"Because I'm smart, Ginny. I'm probably the smartest person in this school."

"You hide it very well."

"Thank You"

Ginny paused, and asked, "Malcolm, how smart are you?"

"I'm a wizard with numbers. Ask me any question that has to do with numbers and I can answer it. Either that or I could give you an example of my photographic memory." He added bitterly. "That's also popular."

Ginny looked at Malcolm and saw the same puppy dog look that Draco had. She hugged him and said, "I promise, We'll always be friends. But you have to promise me one thing?"

"What's that?" Malcolm asked.

"Don't tell Hermione about this," Ginny said. "She'll hate finding out she's number two."

The two laughed, and Ginny went up to her room to get ready for dinner. On a whim, she opened up the small box where she put the ring. Hermione had found a simple solution, and shrank her finger, so the ring fell off. Ginny would never wear the ring, but she wouldn't throw it away, either.

In his room in Slytherin, Draco made sure he was alone. He spelled open a chest, which held his most personal possessions. He put in his copy of the Wizard Weekly, and the picture of Ginny and her brothers. He then looked at the other items. The largest was a box of Building Blocks, the kind that little children play with. Each one was a different color, and showed a different animal. A third of the box was empty. There was a piece of straw from his first broom. There was his letter, announcing his acceptance to Hogwarts. The last thing in the box was a picture, taken near the end of last term. It showed a thin boy, eight years old, with closely cropped blond hair. The background could best be described as sterile. The boy stood unmoving, staring intently ahead. If you did not know better, you would swear it was an ordinary muggle photograph.


	14. The Scientific Method

Chapter 14: The Scientific Method 

"Good Morning, Malcolm," Ginny said, "Have you heard anything about your brother? We want to know if he got our hexed letter."

"You sent Francis a hexed letter?"

"It was Draco's idea," she told him. "Once he opens the letter, your brother will have to tell the truth about everything, or he will suffer from perpetual flatulence."

"That explains it," Malcolm said. "My mom wrote to tell me that he was made an Honors Cadet, for displaying 'unbridled honesty.'"

Ginny muttered a few curses and walked off.

  
  


Commandant Spangler look at Francis, carefully. "Explain the party to me one more time."

Francis did so. "We knew you would be gone for the weekend. I ordered a few kegs of beer, charging it to the school credit card. I got the number, when I riffled your desk the previous week, looking for request forms. I bribed Cadet Smith in the motor pool into letting me use a truck. I gave him two bottles of Bourbon, that you kept locked up in your safe, which I opened with the use of a stethoscope I had stolen from the nurse's office when I went there faking an illness in order to get out of the ten mile march you had scheduled for that day. I brought back the beer along with six girls who said the were looking for something to do. I don't know what happened to the truck, or how that one keg exploded in your office, but I do have the phone numbers for three of the girls."

"And how did you figure out my pattern for making surprise inspections on a random basis," Spangler asked.

"What pattern?" Francis asked. "You always start with my room."

  
  


"Malcolm," Draco said, "it's time for you to explain why we are here on the fifth floor."

"That's easy," Malcolm said, "Look over the railing. You can see all the staircases between here and the ground floor."

"That is utterly fascinating," Draco said, forcing a yawn for emphasis.

"That's not all," Malcolm continued, "This spot is the only spot that never has a staircase under it, even when the staircases are moving."

"And the point is?" Draco asked.

Malcolm smiled, and pulled out a water balloon. "I'm going to prove my point by dropping this balloon over the railing, as soon as the staircases start to move."

"Oh. An experiment. And you what my help in looking for wet spots after the balloon breaks."

"No, Draco. I only want a witness, in case anybody says I made this up. Besides, I couldn't trust using water. I had to make up my own potion."

"Malcolm, I've just become interested. What kind of potion."

The Gryffindor smiled. "Colin Creevey gave me the idea. You know how he wants to be a professional photographer. He has potions to develop the pictures. Some of these impose a color, then dissipate."

"You're losing me, Malcolm. Get to the point."

"This isn't a water bomb, it's a paint bomb, except the paint disappears in two days. Until then, everything that gets hit will remain bright yellow. All I have to do is analyze the splash pattern, and I can prove my theory."

Draco clapped his hands together. "Very good, Malcolm. And we are going to wait here until the staircases start moving? I don't intend to stand around that long."

"It will only be. . ." Malcolm said checking his timepiece, ". . .two minutes from. . .now."

"Malcolm," Draco said, "You can't know that. The staircases move at completely random times. But you are my friend, and I'm going to be nice, you know. I will wait with you for two minutes."

"One minute, fifteen seconds."

Draco looked at his friend. Everyone knew Malcolm was smart, but he had never thought about it. If he understood correctly, the younger boy had just done something impossible. He watched carefully as the countdown continued. Malcolm readied his balloon, and counted out the last few seconds.

As the countdown reached zero, the staircases began to move. Malcolm dropped the balloon over the railing, and the two boys leaned over to look down. They heard the balloon hit, followed by several screams.

"OH NO, MY ROBES!" one girl screamed.

"That sounded like Pansy," Draco said.

Several other shouts drowned out any further remarks, until Argus Filch let out a holler from below, "MRS. NORRIS, WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU?"

Draco turned to Malcolm and said, "I think you should reconsider telling people about your experiment."

  
  


Everyone was talking when Malcolm walked into the Great Hall for dinner. "Did you here the news, Malcolm?" someone asked, "Colin Creevey was called to the headmaster's office. He turned Filch's cat bright yellow."

"I know," said a second student, "Isn't it great? I didn't know Colin had it in him."

[I get it. It was the potion I used in my balloon. I probably should have told Colin about it.]

Malcolm sat down to eat, quite happy to have avoided trouble, when Professor Snape leaned over him and whispered, "You have detention with me tonight, and both of us know why. Keep it that way."

"What was that all about?" EJ asked as the Potions Professor walked away.

"He was reminding me that I have detention with him tonight."

"I'm curious, Malcolm. Why do you have detention this time."

"I can't say," Malcolm said.

"You mean you don't know?" EJ asked, incredulously.

"No," Malcolm replied, "I can't say."

Malcolm finished his meal, and walked to the Potions classroom. He found Draco waiting for him, smiling thinly. He also found Filch, Mrs. Norris (her fur now matched her eyes), and the headmaster.

"It will fade in two days," Malcolm said quickly.

"That is all the time I want with him," Filch said to Dumbledore.

"I will consider it, Argus," Albus Dumbledore said, "thank you for showing Malcolm the damage he has done."

Angrily, Filch left, carrying his cat. He glared at the boy as he left, and Mrs. Norris let out a loud hiss.

"It is a pity," Dumbledore said, "that Draco Malfoy does not run as fast as you do. Also, Colin Creevey had already reported some missing potions. I made the initial mistake of assuming it was the Weasley Twins." He looked at Malcolm, and asked, "Is it true, that you discovered the pattern of the staircases?"

"Yes, Sir," Malcolm answered in surprise.

He's impressed by what I did. I might get away with this.

"You'll have detention with Professor Snape for the next week, for throwing that balloon" Dumbledore said. "Next time, tell me, or one of the teachers, before you do something foolish. I could have told you if you were correct."

"I'm sorry, sir," Malcolm said, chastised.

"On second thought," Dumbledore said, as he turned to leave, "Make that two weeks. You did steal the potion from your house mate."

"No, I didn't," Malcolm said, as everyone stopped. "I made the potion myself."

"And who did you steal the ingredients from," Snape asked, as Malcolm became very interested in the floor.

As Malcolm took a seat, Professor Snape turned to Draco and said, "Mr. Malfoy, you may leave now."

Draco looked up in surprise. "I'm not being punished, Sir?"

Snape smiled and said, "You spent the afternoon with Malcolm. Isn't that punishment enough?"

  
  


"Good evening, Malcolm," Professor Snape said as the boy walked in for his detention. "Tonight, instead of cleaning up, I'm going to practice one of my lectures for the senior classes. Get your cauldron ready, and we'll see if you are as bad at advanced potions as you are at simple ones."

Four hours later, an exhausted Snape let him go, asking him, "Do you see why your theory was wrong, Malcolm? You cannot mix ground mandrake and control the results as well as with slices of the root. You have to do some things slowly, and let the ingredients blend."

"Thank you for spending the time with me, Sir," Malcolm said as he walked off.

Severus Snape shook his head. "I swear, that boy lives for detention," he said to himself.

Malcolm walked back to the common room, and turned the corner to where the portrait sat, with Sir Cadogan guarding the entrance way. Instead he ran into a troll, who held up his club and demanded, "Who are you and what do you want?"

"To leave," Malcolm said, showing his nimbleness and dexterity by running in the opposite direction as quickly as possible. The troll scratched his head and said, "Must be lost." "You scared him with that little club of yours," the other troll laughed.

Malcolm ran for a good length until he ran into Professor Snape, who greeted him, saying, "Oof. Watch where you're going." Without uttering a single coherent word, he explained the entire matter to the Professor. Snape nodded his head and took the boy in hand, leading him to the nearby Slytherin common room. Malcolm was given an empty bed, and a sleeping draught, while Snape left to find out what "Tro-o-o, biiiiig, GGGry," meant when combined with wildly waving hands. All he understood was that it was happening at the Gryffindor dorms.

  
  


Draco woke up late, dressed and went to the common room, where he found Malcolm sitting by the fireplace. "Did you get lost?" he joked.

"No, Snape brought me here. I slept in some bed in the first years dorm. He drugged me."

"Wise thinking on his part," the Slytherin laughed, "Malcolm, you woke most of us up, when you came in. Of course, Snape gave you a sleeping potion. Then he had to come back and tell us what happened. Sirius Blake broke into Gryffindor, and attacked Ron Weasley by mistake."

"Was he hurt?"

"Unfortunately no, but the Weasel did scream like a little girl. That's why they put the trolls there, as extra guards."

"When did all this happen?" Malcolm asked.

"Well," Draco said, "The Weasel was attacked the night Snape brought you here, and they put the trolls there as guards last night."

"How long have I been here?"

"Madame Pomfrey said you had a fairly big fright, and gave you another draught, just to make sure you slept it off. It's been two days."

Malcolm shook his head, "That doesn't make sense. If the trolls only arrived yesterday, how did I run into them the night before."

"Just helping out in the search, I would guess. And they didn't just arrive. They've been part of the security since Black escaped. Haven't you seen them at the Quidditch matches."

Malcolm paled, "I don't go to Quidditch Matches. I get sick when I fly brooms."

"I don't get it, Malcolm. You lean out of windows on the top floors to see if you can spit all the way to the ground, yet you lose your lunch if you're more than two feet off the ground on a broom."

Draco led Malcolm to the Great Hall, explaining about the trolls, and how they make patrols on the grounds. "They were right behind McGonagall at the last match, when we tried dressing up as dementors."

"I told you it wouldn't work," Malcolm said, "not after the real ones had been there."

"And you were right. All Potter did was shoot some spell at us, and catch the snitch anyway. We're here. I'll see you in detention"

They entered the Great Hall and Draco handed Malcolm to the first Gryffindor he came across. Neville smiled at the disheveled Malcolm, and led him to a seat. "I'm in trouble, Malcolm. I'm the one who let Sirius Black into Gryffindor."

"You shouldn't have done that," Malcolm said, "They're going to kill you when they find out."

Neville looked surprised. "Malcolm, have you been asleep for the past two days? Everyone already knows about it. Black found my list of passwords, and now everyone blames me."

Malcolm told Neville he was right about being asleep, and explained what happened. "Are the trolls still there?" He asked, then added, "I'll be camping out for the next few weeks."

"Do you need company?" Neville asked. "I'm not even allowed to have the password anymore."

"Ron looks pretty upset," Malcolm commented, "I guess it hurts having your pet rat eaten, then almost get killed because somebody picked the wrong bed."

"Just ask him," Neville said, "He'll tell you more than you want to know."

"It was terrible," Ron Weasley could be heard saying, "I awoke to the sound of fabric being ripped. It was a sharp knife, slicing through the drapes around my bed. . ."

"He's getting very good at telling that story," Neville said.

"What's Colin Creevey doing over there?"

"You've heard how he turned Mrs. Norris yellow?" Neville asked.

[Yeah, I know all about what HE did. I get to spend two days with Filch if I tell anyone the truth.]

"He deny's it all the time," Neville continued, "but it got the other students talking about his photography. He's taking a group picture of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team. They're calling it their championship photo."

"I thought Gryffindor just played Ravenclaw?" Malcolm asked.

Neville looked at the first-year and realized that Malcolm had never bothered to learn the first thing about Quidditch, "It's an honest mistake. Don't worry about it."

  
  


Malcolm walked into the potions room for his nightly detention, to find it crowded. Neville was there, because of his blunder with the passwords. Draco was there with Crabbe and Goyle, as well as half the Slytherin Quidditch Team. They had all won first prize in the dementor look-alike contest. Two strangely colored Ravenclaw's were there as well. They had tried to imitate the 'Creevey' potion, and failed. Last of all, were Percy Weasley, and his girlfriend, Penelope. When Malcolm asked, Percy explained that cataglottism is forbidden on school grounds. He never explained what the word meant. (When Malcolm looked up the definition, it was defined as a form of deosculation. Malcolm looked at the cover page and found out that the dictionary was printed in 1786.)

[(I wonder. Do they mean A.D. or B.C.)]

Malcolm took a seat next to Neville, but was told to sit with Draco. Neville, and most of the Slytherins, were sent off to wash bottles, clean storerooms and other chores. Percy and Penelope were given the task of mixing a potion that would turn the two Ravenclaws back to normal colors. "And the two of you will come with me," Snape said, leading them out of the room and down the hall. "Since you are such good friends, I will give you something you can do together."

They were led to a room where several trolls where lounging around. Malcolm's heart started beating fast, and he began to back out of the room. "Don't be afraid," Snape said with a surprising soothing voice, "It makes your hands shake, and you won't do a good job. There is the wood polish, and the trolls will hand you their clubs." With a chuckle he left the room.

A troll walked over, placed his club down on the table and said, "Make it shine, or I make you short."


	15. Just Like Brothers

Chapter 15: Just Like Brothers 

Professor Snape smiled at Malcolm as the boy stood in front of him. "I'm going to do you a favor, Malcolm. I'm going to forget about the rest of your detentions. Would you like that?"

"I would, Sir, but, what's the catch?"

"It's simple, Malcolm. You are a trusted member of Gryffindor, and I wish to use that to promote friendship between the various houses. I'm even going to let Draco Malfoy escort you into Hogsmeade this weekend. Don't you think that is nice of me."

"Yes, Sir. Very nice."

[I think he's being nice. Don't you think he's being nice? Everyone here at school says, "Severus Snape, what a nice guy."]

"I think I understand, Sir. You want everyone to see me with the Slytherins, so that they won't trust me as a Gryffindor," Malcolm said,"Well, it won't work."

"Do tell me why," The Potions Professor asked with amusement.

"Because they don't trust me, already," Malcolm said, smugly.

"I'll keep that in mind, Malcolm," Snape said, stifling a laugh, "Do you have any money saved up?"

"I'm still getting my allowance from home," Malcolm answered carefully.

"That's good, Malcolm. When Draco takes you to the apothecary, you will purchase enough potion ingredients to replace what you stole." Professor Snape leaned forward, and added, "I couldn't care less about who trusts you."

Chagrined, Malcolm left the potions class and headed for the Great Hall. As he approached the staircases he paused to look around. The Staircases had changed to a new pattern. He forgot all about eating and went to the fifth floor and looked down. He waited patiently until the staircases began to move. He checked his watch, and checked to see where the staircases moved to. He sat down and started calculating. There would have to be some more checks but he was sure of the new pattern.

As Malcolm walked back to the common room, he felt some pride. Someone had altered the magic of the stairwells because of him. Now, he wanted to know how. He added it to the list of things to do.

He walked into the common room, as his fellow first-year, EJ, came out. "You're up early, Malcolm," he said. "Have you had breakfast already?"

  
  


Draco waited by the entrance for Malcolm to show up. After almost everyone had left, he can down the stairwell, smiling. "I did it," He said excitedly, "It was easy to figure out. All they did was reverse it. Next time, I'm going to make the change."

"I'm happy for you, Malcolm. You are talking about the staircases, aren't you? Well, I'm not up for another experiment." Draco looked closely at his friend. "How much sleep did you get last night."

"None," Malcolm admitted, "I got too involved. At one point, I think I tried to explain everything to Mrs. Norris."

Draco shook his head. He seemed to have bad luck picking his friends, and Malcolm was a case in point. Potter had the Weasel, who was at least consistent and always ready to help. Malcolm, on the other hand, was always willing to find out, if somebody said, "What would happen if. . ."

The two walked into Hogsmeade, getting more than a few stares. Draco led the way to the apothecary, and Malcolm spent most of his money on replacements for what he had borrowed.

[Yes. Borrowed. I always intended to replace everything, just not so publicly.]

"Malcolm, let's get something to eat, and then I'm going to excuse myself. . ."

"You're going to ditch me."

"I didn't say that."

"I didn't say you said it, I said you were going to do it. Well, Draco, are you."

"Yes, I was planning on it, Malcolm."

"That's cool with me," Malcolm said, "It's what I would do if I were with Dewey. The truth is, it is what I do when I am with Dewey."

"Then it's not a problem," Draco asked in surprise, then wondered why he should be surprised.

"Why should it be a problem," Malcolm said, "I'm in Hogsmeade. If anybody asks, either I waiting for you, or I lost you. If I get busted, it's your fault."

"I can live with that," Draco said, "Here's a Galleon, if you need something."

"Thanks," Malcolm said, taking the money, "but I just want to show you the way my brothers and I ditch each other. Could you wait here for just a minute, I need to get something."

[It should take him about ten minutes to figure it out.]

  
  


Malcolm stopped in the Three Broomsticks to get something to eat, but was spotted by some teachers. He made the quick excuse that Draco was talking to some friends, while he was getting the food. That meant he ended up with two sandwiches. He shook his head as he left, and looked for a quiet spot to eat. That would give Draco enough time to get away.

He ended up on the edge of town, on a hill over looking some fields, and sat down against a rock. He blinked his eyes, and when he opened them, it was dark. He was confused until he reminded himself that he hadn't slept at all the night before. He felt the cold, suddenly, and remembered: Dementors patrol the town after sundown.

"You'd best come away quick," a voice whispered.

Malcolm turned around to find himself face to face with Sirius Black, the mass murderer, who failed in his last attempt to kill Harry Potter.

"Oh, hi Sirius," Malcolm said, "what are you doing here?"

"Just trying to save your life," he answered in a casual voice, then added, seriously, "the dementors are hungry, and you would make a nice snack. Follow me, and stay close."

Malcolm watched with curiosity as the man transformed into a large black dog. As the dog walked off, Malcolm stayed close. After a roundabout journey, they came to the other side of Hogsmeade, and the Shrieking Shack. The dog transformed back into a man, and quickly removed a plank, then a second one. Malcolm crawled in, and Sirius followed, replacing the planks.

"Why are we here?" Malcolm asked, "Isn't this place supposed to be haunted?"

"It's supposed to be," Sirius said, "but it isn't. Personally, I find that rather convenient. Did I smell food on you, by the way?"

Malcolm laughed and pulled the sandwiches out of his robe. Sirius thanked him, unwrapped one, and ate hungrily. As he finished, Malcolm asked him about how he changed. into a dog. Sirius said that it was mostly routine for him, the hardest was the first time. Malcolm added the idea to his list.

"Now, let's get you back," Sirius said, and led him slowly through the dark room to a staircase that went down. When they reached the dirt floor, Sirius had Malcolm make a light with his wand. Malcolm had to ask about Ron, and Sirius told him that he wasn't after the boy, he was after the rat.

"You don't have to worry," Malcolm said, "He's been eaten by Hermione Granger's cat."

"No he hasn't," Sirius said, "I talked to Crookshanks, and he said that the rat got away."

"Is Crookshanks, you know. . ." Malcolm asked.

"A cat, yes," Sirius said, " and I was able to talk to him as a dog, after a fashion. You can't get too esoteric when all you can do is bark." He paused, then asked, "Malcolm, do you trust me?"

"Well, I did follow you at night to a deserted house and then into the cellar. I think that make's it a yes."

"Good. Because I don't want you to tell anyone what is going on. The wrong person might hear."

Malcolm nodded. "I'm getting good at keeping secrets. I never told anyone about Mrs. Norris. Everyone knows, of course, but that's not the point."

Sirius gave the boy a bemused smile. "Thank you, Malcolm. We're almost there. I'm going to do something to cause the Whomping Willow to freeze. You'll be at the base of the tree when you climb out, and you'll have about five seconds to get clear. And thanks again for the sandwich."

Malcolm jumped out of the secret passage, and sprinted clear of the tree, making his way back into the school. Sirius Black watch him go, and uttered his amazement. The boy never doubted him, despite everything he had been warned about. Even before his friends died, no one ever trusted him that much. He returned down the tunnel and back to the Shrieking Shack. At the top of the stairs, he found the bag, and the second sandwich.

  
  


"Reese." Lois called out, "What are you doing. Get ready for school. Dewey, don't eat those candies in the livingroom. You're leaving feathers all over the place." Exasperated she said, "Hal, will you do something about this."

"I'm on it," Hal said as he got up and left for work.

"Thanks for the help," Lois muttered.

"Mom, I finally figured it out," Reese said, coming into the room.

Lois rolled her eyes and asked, "What did you figure out.?"

"About Malcolm. He IS crazy, AND a wizard. That's why we had to have him locked up."

"Reese, I'm amazed. You are right on the money."

"I knew it," Reese said, gleefully, as he walked off to school.

Dewey walked up to his mother, and asked, "Can I take my friend Peeves to school. It's show and tell."

"Fine dear," Lois said, then addressed his imaginary friend, "Good morning, Peeves."

Dewey rolled his eyes, "He's in the livingroom, Mom."

Dewey left, telling Peeves to follow him. Lois looked up as her youngest son raced out the door. She could have sworn she heard two voices. She went to vacuum the livingroom again, wishing that whoever had invented Canary Creams had been shot.

  
  


"Malcolm. please come with me," Dumbledore said as the boy walked down the hall. He fell in step with the Headmaster, and followed him to his office. He received a cup of tea, and sat back in a leather chair. Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, and looked at him carefully. "You went to Hogsmeade yesterday with Draco Malfoy. However, you did not come back with him. In fact, you did not come back at all. Would you like to explain how you got here."

"No, Sir," Malcolm said.

Albus did not smile. "This is a serious matter, Malcolm. Either you give me a full explanation, or you explain to your parents why you came home early."

"I found a tunnel, Sir."

"No, you didn't. I've checked all of the secret tunnels into the school, and while some have been used, none have been used by you."

"This is one of the ones that doesn't lead into the school, Sir, only onto the grounds."

Albus Dumbledore sat up with a start at that remark, and Malcolm realized he had said something wrong. He watched as the headmaster made the right deductions, and figured out how the tunnel was found.

"He didn't kill anybody," Malcolm said, "He told me it was a con job."

"And you believed him?" Dumbledore said, severely.

"Yes, I did," Malcolm said in an overly loud voice. In a lower tone, he added, "I know it's strange, but it's like with my brother. Reese does tell the truth, but a change always comes over him when he does. It's like he's trying to do something that he hasn't done in a long time. Sirius Black is the same way."

Albus smiled inwardly remembering his former student. "Thank you, Malcolm, for your honesty," he said, adding conspiratorially, "I have always had doubts about his guilt, and after listening to you, I feel that my doubts might be justified. But let us keep this a secret between us, however. If the wrong person should hear. . ."

"Yes, Sir," Malcolm said. As he left, he wondered if he should tell the headmaster about the rat.

[Do you ever get the feeling that all sorts of things are happening around you and you don't know it. I've had that feeling ever since I got here.]

  
  


It was Monday night, and Malcolm walked into Professor Binns' classroom for detention. Except for Professor Binns, the room was empty. "Hello, Malcolm," the professor said, "There is no detention tonight, but I waited around in case you showed up. Please sit down."

Malcolm took the seat pointed out to him, and sat. A feeling of uneasiness began to creep into him. It was made worse when the ghost said, "We are having a problem with you, Malcolm, and I have been asked to deal with it. First, tell me who gave you detention."

"Professor Flitwick, Sir. He told me . . ."

"No, he didn't," Professor Binns said, "All of the teachers, and not only the ones you have classes with, were told by Professor Dumbledore not to give you detention today, regardless of what you did. If you wish to stand by your excuse, I will call Professor Flitwick here to verify it." He watched as Malcolm gave him a stunned look, and continued, "Professors Snape and Lupin have also commented on how frequently you show up when they hold detention, especially when they insist on holding lessons as part of the punishment." He paused and gave a ghostly smile. "Since you insist on showing up, anyway, we want to make the best of it."

By the time Malcolm had left, his class schedule had been changed. He would no longer take Flying lessons, as long as he continued to attend the nighttime lectures that were the bane of every other student. Instead, he would sit in on the second year potions classes, except for days of double potions. On those days, he would report to the Arithmancy Professor, who would tutor him on the basics of the subject. If he did as well as expected, then he would take an advanced course next year, instead of the basic course. He was also excused from his History class, and could use the time to audit various courses instead, subject to the approval of the headmaster.

As he turned to leave, Professor Binns stopped him to make one last comment. "Do you know why some people become ghosts?" He smiled at the boy's stare, and continued, "It is because they have unfinished business. And you are my unfinished business, Malcolm. You and the others like you who want to know more than what the teacher tells you in the classroom. I feel the need to be there, in case I can make a difference. And I fear I will be a ghost for a very long time. There will always be another student who wants to learn."

Malcolm walked back to the common room with a quick pace. He walked in with a smile on his face, causing everyone to wonder what he had done. He had to tell someone the good news, someone who would understand.

Hermione Granger listened to what he told her, and gave him a congratulatory hug. Ron had to laugh. Only Hermione would think extra classes was good news.

  
  


"So, Francis," Stan asked, "what's the latest word on your brother, the wizard?"

"I'm not really sure," Francis replied, "I got his latest letter, but all he says is that he finally figured out how the staircases work. Does that make any sense to you."

Stan mused for a bit, then said, "Staircases can be tricky things. I went to this mall last weekend, and they even had one that moved. Do you think that's what he figured out."

"I don't know," Francis said, "Maybe Mom was telling the truth when she said he went mental."

Stan nodded as he scratched the owl's chin, "That would explain the weird post office he uses."


	16. Why Do People Keep Telling Me These Thin...

A/N Thank you to everyone, again, who read and who reviewed. I do appreciate it.. I hope that the rest of the story is up to par.

  
  
Chapter 16: Why Do People Keep Telling Me These Things 

Malcolm walked down to breakfast feeling something was wrong. He always had that feeling, so he paid no attention to it. He walked into the Great Hall, took his usual seat, and found Draco waiting for him. Draco was agitated, and clearly wanted to talk to Malcolm alone. They got up and walked out.

When they were alone, Draco told him about running into Ron Weasley by the Shrieking Shack after they had separated. He was then attacked by something he couldn't see. Then he saw a head floating in midair, and ran. Later, Draco realized that it was Harry Potter. He had told Snape, and now he wanted to know if Malcolm knew if anything happened to Potter as a result, such as getting a detention or something.

"No, I don't know anything," Malcolm said.

"Oh, all right then, I'll talk to you later," Draco said, and he left.

Malcolm walked back to the Great Hall and sat down to breakfast. Ginny came up to him and asked if she could speak to him, privately. As they walked out, she made small talk about how Hermione Granger had gotten mad and walked out of Divination. When they were alone, she told him that Harry and Ron had played a nasty trick on Draco, not that he didn't deserve it, but she couldn't help feeling worried. Draco had received a nasty fright about something.

"Do you think he might be planning some type of revenge?" Ginny asked. "I know he talks to you about things. I'm afraid he might try something, and someone will get seriously hurt."

"Ginny, he hasn't said anything to me about doing anything. He did ask if Harry Potter got into any trouble though." Malcolm shrugged his shoulders as though to say that was all he knew.

"Something did happen," Ginny said, "but Harry won't talk about it. I think he got caught, but he didn't get punished. Somebody said something to him, though, and it shook him up."

Ginny left him, and Malcolm returned to the Great Hall to have breakfast. As he sat down, Hermione Granger walked up to him and asked if she could talk to him in private. Malcolm politely got up and followed her out of the Great Hall.

When they were alone, Hermione mentioned that she had seen Malcolm walk off to talk with Malfoy earlier, and asked to know if anything was going on. Things were getting tense between the two houses with their Quidditch match coming up, and she wanted to head things off if she could.

"Hermione," Malcolm said with exasperation, "I just talked to Ginny about this. Draco doesn't tell me anything that would cause trouble for me in Gryffindor. If he was planning anything, he wouldn't tell me. The only thing he's planning is to win the Quidditch match."

"I was only asking because I was worried," Hermione said.

"I understand you dropped Divination," Malcolm said, "does this mean I'll only be passing you twice during change of classes in the morning?"

Hermione's eyes bulged at the sudden change of conversation. "You mean you see me three times during class change?"

"Yeah," Malcolm said, "I heard Ron Weasley talking about your schedule, and I figured you were doing some time thing. Why? Is that unusual?"

"No, not at all," Hermione lied, "It's quite common, actually."

"That's nice to hear," Malcolm said, not believing a word she said.

"Could I ask you a favor?" Hermione said.

"I won't tell anyone," Malcolm said as he turned to leave, "After all, the wrong person might hear."

Malcolm went to the Great Hall and sat down to have breakfast. Just as he began to reach for some food, Hagrid came over and asked to speak to him privately. He got up, and followed the teacher out of the Great Hall.

As soon as they were alone, Hagrid told him about how he had lost the case against Buckbeak, the hippogryph. He was working on an appeal. "Hermione is helpin' me, and Harry and Ron, but it don't look good. The thing I wanted to ask yer, Malcolm, is yer had a way with Buckbeak, when yer took care of 'im. Could yer look at 'im for me? He's been off his feed, and I'm worried."

Malcolm assured him he would, as soon as he had a free moment. He said goodbye and walked back to the Great Hall. He entered the Great Hall and walked to the Gryffindor table to sit down. As he did, Dobby, the house elf appeared, and asked if they could talk in private.

When they were alone, Dobby said, "Malcolm is good friend. Dobby does not deserve to have such friends. Dobby is a bad house elf."

"What is it?" Malcolm asked with exaspiration, "Just tell me, so I can forgive you and go back to breakfast."

"Dobby did not listen when friend Malcolm told him to stop feeding Buckbeak. Dobby heard Hagrid yell at friend Malcolm."

"He didn't yell," Malcolm explained, "He doesn't know that you've been feeding the hippogryph. Hagrid was wondering why Buckbeak isn't eating his regular food. Dobby, just give him one or two muffins a night. Promise me?"

"Dobby promises. Dobby is glad friend Malcolm is not in trouble." Malcolm looked around but Dobby was already gone. He walked back to the Great Hall for breakfast when he was stopped by Pansy Parkinson.

[I didn't even make it into the Great Hall this time.]

"Can I talk to you in private?" she asked. "It's about Draco."

As soon as they were alone, Pansy told him her problem. "I've been trying to get Draco to notice me, but I think I angered him too much when I spoiled his plans with that Weasley tramp. Do you know anything I can do to attract his attention?"

"I know he like women with a strong sense of humor. That's why he likes Ginny so much. They keep trying to come up with things to say to each other in public."

"He likes Ginny Weasley?" Pansy asked.

"Of course, he does," Malcolm said, "and I'm getting tired of it. I always have to be the go-between, passing along messages, arranging meetings, all that secret stuff."

"Draco likes Ginny Weasley?" Pansy asked.

"I was surprised," Malcolm said. "Hey, maybe he's doing it for his dad? That would explain all those things he said about hating to call her friend a mudblood."

"Draco likes Ginny Weasley?" Pansy asked, and walked away in disbelief.

Malcolm smiled as the confused girl walked away. He knew she would make a fool of herself by confronting Draco.

[Serves her right. Nobody insults my friends, at least when their talking to me.]

Malcolm walked into the Great Hall, when he was stopped by Professor McGonagall, who said, "What do you think you are doing, young man? Breakfast is over with, and it is time for classes to begin. If you can't be bothered to get up early enough, then don't expect to eat."

Malcolm walked away in disgust, and received a warning about his use of language. He sat through his classes in a foul mood. As soon as he had the chance, he went down to the Great Hall for lunch. When he walked in, his friend EJ called out to him.

"No," Malcolm shouted, "No, I am not talking to anyone." As the Hall grew quiet, he raised his voice. "Do you hear me? I am talking to no one about nothing, Nada. Zilch. Zero. I don't want to have any conversation at all. All I want to do is eat."

As the silence waned, students began to talk to each other again, mostly about the strange behavior of the American student. Malcolm ate his lunch with no one at the Gryffindor table saying a single word to him. They would laugh, however, every time Malcolm looked up.


	17. The House Cup

Chapter 17: The House Cup 

Malcolm waited for a chance to talk to Ginny. Everyone in the Gryffindor tower was racing around, getting ready for the final match of the school year, against arch-rival Slytherin. At the last minute, he was able to get her to talk to him, albeit with Fred and George joining in.

"I had a conversation with Pansy Parkinson, and your name came up," Malcolm told her.

"I'm going to hate this, aren't I?" Ginny said, "What did you do?"

"Well, She wanted my advice about how to get back in Draco's good graces, and I got mad when she said a few things about you."

"And you said?" Ginny asked, as additional prompting came from Fred and George.

"I told Pansy that Draco likes girls with a good sense of humor, like you. I also said he likes girls with compassion, like you. And I said I was tired of running around between you and Draco as your personal messenger boy." Malcolm sighed, and added, "I thought you should know."

"That explains the strange look she gives me," Ginny said, "Fred, George, what do you think."

"I think it's time for some fun," Fred said.

"Definitely," George agreed. "Ginny, do you still have Malfoy's ring."

"You should wish him good luck before the game begins. I think it would mean a lot to him," Fred continued.

"Especially if dear Pansy is around," George concluded.

"She will be," Malcolm chirped, "but you'll have to hurry."

"And if he rejects me, I'll cry and call him a two-timer," Ginny said happily

In a flash, Ginny was back with the silver ring on her hand, and she and Malcolm ran off. Harry came down the stairs as they left, and asked why Ginny was in such a hurry.

"She wants to wish her boyfriend good luck before the match," George told him.

"It might inspire Malfoy to play decently for once," Fred added.

"I'm missing something here," Harry said.

"That happens when you sleep late," Fred said, as they left for the quidditch pitch.

  
  


"Thank you for your good wishes, Pansy," Draco said with exasperation.

"I didn't want you to feel bad over the way I acted," Pansy said, "I was foolish to believe Malcolm when he told me all those lies about you and Ginny."

"I understand, Pansy," Draco said, "but I should be getting ready now."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Pansy asked, ignoring Draco's hints that she should leave.

Draco caught back his next words, as one of his teammates pointed to the doorway. Ginny Weasley was standing there, and she was wearing his ring. Draco immediately thought of Malcolm. His friend was determined to embarrass Pansy as much as possible, and Ginny was obviously supposed to be the second volley. 'If she thinks I'll go along with this,' Draco thought to himself, 'she came at exactly the right time.' He smiled and said, "Hello, Love. What brings you here."

Ginny smiled back, and walked up to him, with one of the best fake smiles he had ever seen. As Pansy, and the rest of the Slytherin team watched, she held out her hand, the one with the ring on it, and said, "I wanted to wish you good luck."

He grabbed her hand with both of his, saying, "I'll be thinking of you the entire time I'm out there."

Pansy looked aghast. "You lied to me, Draco. You told me she meant nothing to you, that this was all a joke." She ran out, refusing to look at anyone.

"That went well," Draco said, letting go of Ginny, "I owe you one."

"I enjoyed doing it," Ginny said, " and, nothing personal, I do hope you lose."

"That is funny," Draco replied, "I was thinking the same thing, but about Potter."

As Ginny left, Marcus Finch asked what was going on. Draco told him, "Pansy gets to be a pest, sometimes. You know how she is always right about everything. I merely confused her a little."

"And how did you get the Weasley girl to . . . Ahhh, Malcolm," Marcus said.

The Slytherins had a good laugh at the joke Draco played on Pansy Parkinson. They would hate him after the game, but then, as things went, they would hate themselves as well.

  
  


"I couldn't believe it," Ginny said, after she finished telling Malcolm what happened. "Draco went along with it completely. That girl must be very annoying."

"She is," Malcolm said as he watched the match. "She gets to everyone after a while."

"So, what do you think of Quidditch," she asked.

"You were right," Malcolm said, "watching them fly doesn't bother me at all."

[Now all I need to do is figure out what they're doing. I feel like I'm watching the New York Yankees playing the Chicago Bulls in free fall. This makes no sense to me at all. Maybe I should ask what the rules are.]

  
  


Spirits were high after the match. Malcolm had been assured that it was a stunning victory. The Gryffindor common room was crowded, with everyone celebrating, when Malcolm walked in.

"You're late," Fred told him, forcing a butterbeer into one hand, and taking a box out of the other, "what's this, chocolates?"

"They're for Ginny," Malcolm said, "from a secret admirer."

"Did you say a secret admirer?" George asked. "Is that true?"

"Of course not," Fred told him, "It's Malfoy. It seems Ginny tried her prank at just the right time. The Parkinson girl had finally irked our Slimy Slytherin friend."

"And how did he happen to have a box of chocolates?" George asked.

"Dunno. Lets ask Malcolm," Fred said, and both twins turned their eyes on the erstwhile first-year.

"Draco says you never know when you need to bribe somebody," Malcolm said.

[I have to remember that. I could try it on Mom. It wouldn't work, but I could try it.]

  
  


It was late when the partying died down. Malcolm found himself sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace. He was too wound up to fall asleep for some time. He sat for a while, reading when he heard a noise to his right.

"Sorry," Harry Potter said, as he sat down, "I didn't know anyone else was up. May I join you."

"Sure," Malcolm said, "but don't expect to much. I think the party ended already."

"It was fun," Harry agreed. After an awkward silence he asked, "How do you like Hogwarts?"

"That's an excellent question, when you don't know what to say," Malcolm replied, only it's too general. The only appropriate answer is 'it's okay, I guess.'"

"What would be a good question?" Harry asked with a laugh.

"That depends. I like to ask people things like 'Is that your real hair?' It sets a mood as well as asks a question. The truth is: I think I like to embarrass people." Malcolm looked at Harry and asked, "Do you really like me, or do you tolerate me."

Harry looked up in surprise, "That is a hard question to answer. Your best friend is my worst enemy, in this school. I think the answer is no to both questions. I don't like you, but I do not simply put up with you. I don't think I know who you really are."

"That's a fair answer," Malcolm said, "I don't really know who I am, either."

"Then let me ask," Harry said, "Why Malfoy? He doesn't seem the type to be a DECENT friend."

Malcolm paused before he answered the question. "I think it's because Draco is honest."

"You've got to be kidding," Harry said with a laugh, "He's been lying all year about Buckbeak, just to cause trouble. He almost had Hagrid fired, and he'll probably end up getting Buckbeak killed. How can you call him honest."

Malcolm answered in an even voice, "Have you ever been fooled by his lies, or do you always see through them?"

"The first time he lied to me, I fell for it," Harry admitted, "but since then, he's been completely transparent. Now that I know how he acts, I can tell if he's lying with my eyes closed."

"Don't you think Draco knows this?" Malcolm said. "To him, it's a game. He's daring you to prove that he's lying. That's the fun of it." With a rising voice, he added, "And I'll tell you this. If he ever makes a promise to you, he will keep it."

Harry wasn't convinced, but didn't want to let go. "And what about me? Am I honest."

"No," Malcolm said brusquely, "you always seem to be hiding something. It's like you lived your entire life in a closed room, or something. You always. . ."

"I did," Harry said suddenly. Malcolm was stunned into silence. "My bedroom was cot in the cupboard under the stairs. My aunt and uncle never thought I was worth a real bed or a real room. My parents were murdered when I was young, and they had to hide me with those muggles to keep me safe. Even now, the man who murdered them is out there, and he's hunting for me." Harry looked at Malcolm in anger. "Maybe that's what I'm hiding. The fact that I'm constantly afraid."

[I think he just told me a little bit more than I wanted to know.]

"Welcome to the club," Malcolm said, "At least you know what you're dealing with. The rest of us are still looking for clues. The hardest lesson I learned is that Magic is not a game. It's a tool, and the best man at using that tool gets to be on top. Add to that, I am now involved in this mock-game of magic, and I am only eleven. You know what to watch for. I don't."

"Everyone has their own demon," Harry said as he calmed down.

They sat in silence for a while, then Malcolm dared to ask another question, "How do you feel when you're flying a broom."

Harry had to give an honest laugh, "I don't get sick, if that's what you mean. It's hard to describe. When I'm flying, it's as though nothing can hold me back. I can go anywhere and do anything. As for the broom, it's as though it were a part of me. I don't need to think about it. All I do is fly." A smile grew on Harry's face as he talked. The earlier conversation seemed to be completely forgotten.

In the end, Malcolm talked more than Harry. The older boy wanted to here the stories about his brothers, and what it was like to be part of a family, especially one like Malcolm's. 

". . .And that's why Francis is in military school," Malcolm concluded.

"I'm amazed," Harry said, "you mean the police couldn't prove anything."

"Nope," Malcolm assured him, "all the proof was circumstantial. The judge rule it was insufficient evidence."

  
  


Malcolm found himself out in the rain, wandering around in the dark. EJ had to ask the ultimate question, "What are we doing?"

"We're trying to find Dewey," Malcolm said, "He's out here, somewhere. I'm afraid of what will happen if he gets too close to the dementors."

"I'm willing to say fine to that. I'm completely soaked."

"I'm sorry, I never learned any water repellant charms. It's not my fault that you didn't, either. Besides, you didn't have to come."

"Wait, I see something over there," EJ said, "and I don't think it's Dewey."

The cold feeling of a dementor approaching swept over the two boys, and a streak of lightning revealed one of the guards of Azkaban approaching them. Suddenly, Dewey appeared from behind them, saying, "Don't worry, I'll save you."

Dewey ran up to the dementor, and began shouting. "Cotton Candy. Puppy dogs licking your face. Milk Moustaches. Chocolate Milk Moustaches."

The dementor stopped in its track, and began to slowly back away, but Dewey didn't stop. "Snow days when you have a test," he yelled, and the dementor let out a low moan. "Sunshine on the weekends," he shouted and the dementor began to wimper as it turned and ran. Dewey chased after him, calling out, "Running naked in the rain." The dementor let out a howl of torment as it fled.

"I guess that explains why he isn't wearing any clothes," EJ said, "I'm going inside."

"Good idea."

[Do you know? I still haven't figured out how he gets here.]

Ginny couldn't help but approach the two dripping boys as they walked into Hogwarts. "We heard some wailing noises. Did you find poor Dewey?"

"We did," Malcolm said, "He's outside with the dementors."

"Oh, No," Ginny cried, "Then those wailing noises were. . ."

"The dementors trying to get away," EJ finished.

  
  


"Francis, you have a package," Stan said, pointing at the owl.

"Great, they came," Francis said, as he payed the owl. He opened up the box which contained several round projectiles. "Do you know what these are, Stan. Gourmet Dung Bombs (TM)."

"Okay, I'll ask. What are Gourmet Dung Bombs (TM)?"

"You've had regular stink bombs, but these are special. This is the color chart. Each bomb brings out the smell of that particular animal. See here, this orange one with the green stripes, that one is elephant dung. And this silver one is gryphon dung."

"Francis, I really don't want to know what gryphon dung smells like."

"I know who might," Francis said with a smile, " Is Spangler still on the drill field?"

"You shouldn't do this," Stan said.

"You mean to tell me that this is wrong?" Francis asked.

"No, I mean to tell you to use the elephant dung. Save that one for a special occasion."

"Good idea."

  
  


"Malcolm," Ginny asked as he sat down next to her, "What are you doing here? This is second year Potions Class." Awareness dawned, and she added, "This is one of your new classes?"

"Yeah," Malcolm said with a grin, "Dumbledore said I wasn't challenged enough, so I get to take this class instead of flying."

"I bet the first years are happy about that," Ginny said with a smirk.

Malcolm gave her a smirk of his own and said, "ALL of the first years are happy about that."

Professor Snape walked in and smiled at the class. Everyone became afraid at this change in his demeanor. "I'm about to show all of you exactly how stupid you really are," Snape said cheerfully, "As you have noticed, we have a new student in this class, a first year student who has the misfortune of being in Gryffindor. Malcolm, please stand up."

Malcolm stood up, and looked briefly at the class. The Gryffindors were eying him suspiciously. The Slytherins, on the other hand, were suspiciously eying him. Then Professor Snape showed him a parchment, and almost as quickly drew it away.

"Malcolm, a plague has hit the school, affecting all of the students and teachers, as well as the residents of nearby Hogsmeade. The parchment I showed you listed the ingredients for the healing potion, as well as the procedure for its preparation. What is the total weight of the ingredients needed to prepare a sufficient number of potions?"

Everyone stared as Malcolm asked, "Do you want that in Pounds or Kilograms?"

"Stone," Snape said with a grin.

"14.238, Sir."

Snape pulled a scrap of parchment out of his robe and looked at it. "Correct," he said, with a hint of surprise showing through. "Class, you will all copy down the list of ingredients as Malcolm recites them."

As Malcolm finished reciting the list from memory, Snape interrupted to chastise one of the students for talking. The boy stood up when demanded, and explained, "I was commenting that he should be with Hermione Granger, Professor."

"Not until next year," Snape told him. He was so pleased with the boy's reaction that he forgot to take away house points.

  
  


Dinner was a change of pace for Malcolm. He was suddenly the center of attention, and no one was trying to hit him. Most of the students asked if he could do their homework, but there were a few serious questions. Hermione Granger showed him her first homework assignment for Arithmancy and asked him if he could fix the mistake in the problem. He told her that the variance was wrong on the twenty third line, and that it looked like a grammar error, as opposed to bad math. That caused everyone to pause.

[Great, I'm about to become the school freak.]

George Weasley chimed in and said, "I bet you couldn't do that problem while riding a broom."

"He could," Fred Weasley said, "but you couldn't get anyone to get near enough to check the answer." Everyone, even Malcolm, laughed at the joke.

Albus Dumbledore smiled as he listened to the conversation. The students were accepting Malcolm, despite being shown that he was easily the smartest student in school. The Weasley twins had shown them, in a very simple way, that being smart is not the same as being wise. Malcolm still had a long way to go in the wisdom department, but he was learning.

  
  


Malcolm stood in the owlery looking out the window, when he heard a noise behind him. He turned to see what the noise was, and saw the headmaster standing behind him, tapping the floor,

"You come up here quite frequently," Albus said to the young boy.

"Just to think, Sir," Malcolm said.

"Ah, thinking," Albus mused, "one of my favorite hobbies. And what do you think about, if you don't mind my asking? You look too melancholy to be thinking happy thoughts."

"Everything," Malcolm said, then sighed, "That's not a useful answer."

"It does explain why you come up here so often. Everything takes a lot of time to think about." Dumbledore watched the boy carefully, and said, "Do you ever wonder why you can't fly a broom? I could tell you if you wanted."

"I know why," Malcolm said, "I don't trust it. I know I should, but inside I'm always afraid something might happen. It doesn't help when somebody like Harry Potter, who's a natural flier, takes a bad fall."

"Do you trust me?" Dumbledore asked.

Malcolm stared in surprise at the question, but before he could answer, the Headmaster walked away.

]It's a test. I'm supposed to come out with the correct answer.]

"No, Sir," Malcolm said to Dumbledore's back. "I don't trust you."

"And why is that?" Dumbledore asked without turning around.

Malcolm said the words before he even thought about them, "Because I don't trust magic."

Malcolm watched as the figure retreated. When he was alone again he turned to look out the window and sighed. The nice short conversation about trust did not bother him so much as the letter in his hand. It had only one number on it, and one word. It said, "172, Camilla."


	18. A Fateful Trip

A/N I have to acknowledge s goof. LOTR FrEaK pointed out that Dobby did not start working at Hogwarts until Malcolm's fourth year. He may have started working earlier, but not before the Christmas Holidays. Harry would surely have known.

I have several people asking who Camilla is. I will repeat what I said in an earlier note: The letters she sends refers to an argument Malcolm had in Diagon Alley. (see chapter with that name). If you can't figure it out, then put it down as a running joke that will be resolved in Malcolm's third year. I refuse to be more specific.

Lastly, Thanks to everyone who has been reading, and especially to the reviewers. I love knowing how people see my writing. - HiBob

  
  
  
  
Chapter 18: A Fateful Trip 

"Malcolm," Neville called out, "How did your exam go?"

"I got out of taking it," Malcolm said happily, "I had to argue with Madam Hooch for almost an hour that I had been permitted to drop the course. I finally convinced her by admitting I had eaten breakfast."

"You have got to be kidding."

"I wish I were," Malcolm sighed, "she started laughing so hard she just waved me away."

  
  


As the Potions exam ended, Professor Dumbledore came up to Malcolm. "And how do you think you did."

"I passed everything, Sir," Malcolm replied, "I remembered it all, although I don't think I understood it all."

"That is good to hear," Albus said, "then may I ask you a favor?

"Uh, I guess," Malcolm said cautiously.

[When a teacher asks you a favor, they're telling you what to do. I'm either going to hate this or love it. There's never a middle ground.]

"Things are coming to a head over the affair with the hippogryph, and I have an unusual request to make of you," Albus said carefully. "The final hearing, and the probable execution, of Buckbeak will be held tomorrow, but Lucius Malfoy feels it best that his son not be present, for the sake of appearances. He would prefer not to simply bring him home early, and I have offered a compromise."

"And you want me to be the excuse," Malcolm said, "Where are we going?"

Albus smiled, "You are a bright lad. The official story is that Draco is taking you to Diagon Alley, but he is not free to say why. It is a personal matter on your part, and he insists on keeping your confidence. I did tell Malfoy that you were scheduled to see a Doctor, about your air sickness, and offered to give his son the position of responsibility as your escort."

"That's no problem. I'll tell a couple of people, in confidence, that I'm going to a doctor. Everyone will know before we even leave, and it will seem perfectly normal."

Dumbledore grinned widely, "Brilliantly simple, Malcolm. I will even arrange for a doctor to examine you, in case it is a problem. Of course, if you take too long, you will have to spend the night at the Leaky Cauldron. Will you mind that?"

[I have to spend a night, in London, without adult supervision. You can tell how upset I am.]

"Not at all, Sir. When do I leave?" Malcolm asked.

The headmaster seemed surprised, "Don't you have any questions? I thought you would at least be curious why I'm asking you."

"No questions," Malcolm said, "at least none that you'll answer, if I'm right. There is something else going on, and I'm guessing you want to get rid of me, as well."

"You are half right, Malcolm. There are several something elses going on, but I would prefer to have you here. You will know about some of them by the time you return and, hopefully, some of them you will never need to know about."

Albus grinned as the boy turned to leave. He was always amazed at how quickly Malcolm would adapt himself to any situation. Then the boy turned around and called back to him.

"Oh, I do have a question, Sir," Malcolm said, "but I don't know if it is appropriate." Albus nodded his head, and Malcolm asked, "Christopher Lee or . . ."

". . .Richard Harris," Albus said, with a chuckle. "I have heard about your question, and it is not appropriate. When I came here, muggles had no such things as movies, although there were plenty of books. For me it would be what character, not what actor."

"Okay," Malcolm said, "Count Dracula or King Arthur."

"Pip," Albus said, grinning as Malcolm frowned, "From 'Great Expectations.' I always felt as though I was in a novel by Charles Dickens, a popular writer when I first came to Hogwarts." He smiled whistfully, and added, "I frequently find myself looking at the students and imagine them to be other characters from his novels."

"Really?"

"I expect you would like an example?" Albus asked, with mirth. "We'll start with you. I immediately pictured you as Oliver Twist, the title character, except with a blank book instead of an empty bowl. It is funny, because my first impression of Draco Malfoy was that he was the Artful Dodger from the same book."

"I am curious, Sir, because of their feelings toward each other, how do you see Harry Potter?"

"I see him as the title character of a different book, David Copperfield," Albus answered. "When he first arrived here, the look on his face was the one I had always imagined on young David, when he arrived at his aunt's house."

  
  


Malcolm woke from his nap to find the train was coming to a stop. "Where are we?" he asked Draco. "This isn't London by a long shot."

"It's a hospital," Draco said without a smile.

Malcolm got off the train and followed his friend into the large building. They were escorted through long hallways to a small room, where a familiar looking blond boy was playing with some blocks. The boy stopped what he was doing when Draco entered, and held out his hand. Draco reached into his robes and pulled out a yellow block with a duck painted on each side. He handed the block to the boy, who took it gingerly.

"Basil, this is my friend, Malcolm," Draco said, pointing behind him.

"Hi, Basil," Malcolm said, as he walked up and held out his hand.

Basil ignored him, and turned back to his blocks.

"Basil," Draco said, "Malcolm is a good friend of mine. We go to school together. We even spent time together over the holidays. I'll ask if you could come next time. We would like that."

Malcolm listened as Draco talked to the boy. The name tag on the door said Basil Smythe, but he knew differently. Madame Pomfrey had told him, that day he had asked her about Stevie. Everybody knows someone. . .even a brother.

"I don't know what to tell you about Malcolm," Draco was saying, " He has always been a good friend, you know."

Malcolm interrupted the one sided conversation and said, "Basil, don't let him tell you about broom flying, if he talks about me you'll never stop laughing."

"That's true, Basil. Malcolm is hopeless on a broom."

After a short time, a nurse came in and asked Malcolm to follow her. She led him to a room and asked him to remove his robes. The doctor came in, examined him, and said, "You're in perfect health, son. Do you have problems other than when you are flying a broom?"

"No, sir," Malcolm admitted.

The doctor looked at the boy, and asked, "are you having any problems at home.?"

"No, sir, I'm at school."

[I know where this is leading to, and I don't want to talk to a head doctor. They're all crazy.]

"Malcolm, I have a good friend I would like you to talk to. I'll talk to your headmaster, and set up an appointment."

"I'm fine. You just said so."

"I said you were healthy, son. There is nothing to worry about."

"I'm not crazy," Malcolm yelled, "I don't what some dumb shrink asking me a lot of stupid questions."

"Of course not, son," the Doctor said, soothingly, "It isn't that serious a matter. It's almost the end of your school year, anyway. We'll see if you still have this problem when you return in September. If you do, you'll talk to my friend. Do you agree."

[I'm screwed. All I need now is for everyone to call me a nut case for real.]

"And if I say no."

"You can talk with my friend, today."

"September sounds wonderful," Malcolm said miserably.

  
  


"Thank you for coming, Malcolm," the nurse said as she escorted him back to Basil's room. "When your brother, Draco, asked us to add your name to the visitors list, we were happy that more of the family wanted to get involved." She smiled and gave a conspiratorial wink.

"When did Draco, uh, my brother do this?" Malcolm asked.

"Shortly after the Christmas holidays," she told him.

"Can I ask," he said, uncomfortably, "What is wrong with Basil? If it's all right to tell me."

"You are family, Malcolm Smythe, and you do have a right to know," the nurse said, rubbing his shoulder, "Basil is a very bright little boy, but that is also his problem. He cannot cope with it, so he retreats into a shell, a closed world. He is what we call a Savant."

"Can't you help him?"

"We could train him to cope," the nurse said sadly, "but that would take years, and your 'father' felt it was not worth the effort. We do some work with him, but mostly we keep him happy."

The way the nurse said that, sounded an ominous note. Malcolm shivered at the possible meanings of 'but that would take years.' 

  
  


Malcolm joined Draco and the two Hogwarts students talked about anything they could think of, always directing their conversation to the young boy. It didn't seem to matter what was said, as long as it was directed to Basil, and not at him. Finally Malcolm asked Draco, "why did you tell them I was your brother?"

"Later, Malcolm," Draco said, irritated at the interruption. "This is time for Basil."

"I'm sorry. I was just asking a question," Malcolm said testily, "I didn't mean to disturb your conversation. . ."

"Malcolm, I asked if you could come, because I thought you would understand. When I'm here I want to talk to Basil. I don't want you to disrupt that," Draco retorted.

"Maybe I should leave," Malcolm said, raising his voice, "You're taking this too seriously. . ."

"Who are you," Draco yelled, "to tell me. . ."

"Excuse me," the nurse said, and pointed at Basil.

The two turned to see the young boy staring at them. Draco stared openmouthed that Basil had reacted. The nurse told them to say something, quickly, and Malcolm blurted out the first thing he could think of.

Pointing his finger at the boy, Malcolm said, "I made you look."

[Boy, that was a brilliant remark on my part.]

Basil stared at the smiling boy. He then took all of his blocks, went to the farthest part of the room and sat down again.

"He is smart," Malcolm said, "he's ignoring us again."

"He's ignoring YOU," Draco said with a smile. "He's very smart."

"I'm sorry," Malcolm said, "for arguing. I was just curious. . ."

"It's all right," Draco replied, "I've always been alone with Basil before. I overreacted." Draco looked at his friend and asked, "I made you look? How could you come up with something so stupid?"

When it came time to leave, and Malcolm said goodbye, Basil looked up, and smiled.

  
  


As they walked from the hospital, Draco confided in him, and also asked his help. "Malcolm, you can't tell anyone about this. Even father doesn't know that I come here. Only Dumbledore knows, and Professor Snape. The hospital staff knows, of course, but they are taught to be discreet."

"I promise, Draco. And. . .I liked to come again, if you don't mind"

Draco actually laughed. "You're joking, Malcolm. Why would you want to come here a second time."

"I don't know," Malcolm said, "But I do."

Draco looked at his young friend's face and said, with a smile, "A serious Malcolm? I never thought I would see the day." He paused , and looked at his friend with a fresh perspective.

Malcolm broke his reverie by asking, "How do we get to London?"

"What are you talking about? We're nowhere near London."

"But Dumbledore told me. . . "

"Malcolm," Draco laughed, "If we missed the last train back to Hogsmeade, then we would have been put on a train to London to spend the night. But the last train back to school leaves in thirty minutes, and the station is only a ten minute walk."

"Oh," Malcolm said, "then they trust us to get on the right train?"

"Of course, Malcolm. It isn't as though they think we are idiots," Draco said, then stopped as he followed Malcolm's line of thought. "There's a train to London in eight minutes, we can make it if we run."

  
  


Two young boys, in jeans and t-shirts were walking around London. "This is amazing," Draco said, "I can't believe muggles live like this. What is that thing."

"It's an abandoned car on fire," Malcolm said.

"Marvelous, and that over there?"

"That's a naked man arguing with a wall."

[I getting a really bad case of Deja Vu here. If my dad comes out of an adult bookstore, I'm going back to that hospital.]

"I like the weird ways people dress," Draco said, laughing"look at that man coming towards us with that stupid hat. What does he think he is."

"I'm not sure," Malcolm said, as the man stopped in front of them, "In the states, we'd call him a police officer."

"Are you lost," the constable said.

"Malcolm," Draco asked, "What should I say? Malcolm? Malcolm?"

"We'll find him," the constable said. "Would you come with me please."

  
  
  
  


"Yes, I know both of them," Argus Filch said to the face in the fireplace, "they are both smart. Too smart if you ask me. Two of the most hopeless cases I've ever seen. I'm amazed that either of them are still at this school."

"They are a couple of smooth characters," the face admitted, "but they did manage to get hold of us without the muggles being any the wiser. We'll send them back on the first train tomorrow morning."

"I'll inform the headmaster as soon as he is free." Argus said, "We'll have the groundskeeper meet your man at the station." Then he added, "and if you could send them back in chains, it would be appreciated."

Filch muttered to himself in disgust. One more thing to add to the list of calamities for the night. He informed the headmaster of what had happened, asoon as he had the chance, and went back to bed, dreaming happy dreams of Malcolm being expelled.

  
  


"I have to thank you, Draco. That was the best time I've had in a long while."

"There's no need to thank me, Malcolm. Most of it happened because of the muggle trick of yours. What do you call it?"

"A fake ID. Francis had it made for me, just in case."

Malcolm looked out the window of the train and noticed that they were coming close to Hogsmeade. "Excuse me," he said, "I'd like to go to the . . ."

The Ministry Aide sitting across from the two boys told him no. "We're almost at the station, and the handcuffs stay on until I turn you over. You can wait till then."

[It doesn't matter. I only wanted to see if I could pick the lock.]

"I think we're going to get away with it," Malcolm said.

Draco said, "I had such a good time, I don't care if we get away with it or not."

Both boys laughed, and the Aide scowled. That caused the boys to laugh even harder.

When the train stopped, Hagrid was waiting for them. The Aide had Hagrid sign for custody of the two boys, and removed the handcuffs. He handed the official report to the giant, and walked away, muttering about kids these days.

"Yer in fer a treat, Mr. Malfoy," Hagrid said, laughing. "I get to tell yer what happened. At the very last minute, Buckbeak escaped. Do yer believe it?"

"Malcolm," Draco said angrily, "I can't stand it. Everything I did, all my efforts, and the blasted thing runs away. I hate it."

"You can't do anything about it, so calm down," Malcolm said, "Just think of. . ." and Malcolm whispered the rest of the sentence so that Hagrid would not hear.

Draco snorted. "It helps, Malcolm, but I'm still upset about it. Potter is going to rub it in my face. I know it. And that blasted Weasel will, too." He muttered and cursed al the way back to the school.


	19. Epilogue: All Good Things. . .

Epilogue: All Good Things. . . 

Malcolm stood alone in the common room. Classes were over. All the exams were finished and graded. The last meals had been eaten, and students were heading for the train station. He paused to reflect on the year that had passed, then decided against it. It would be too much like work.

The Trusty Trio came down the stairs from their dorm rooms, one of the last to head out. Harry stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and looked back. Malcolm couldn't resist asking, "Harry, who do you see? Christopher Lee or Richard Harris."

Harry let out a laugh, and Hermione joined in. Ron just looked confused as Hermione told him it was a muggle thing.

"It's about movies," Harry said, "Hermione told me about your question, but I didn't know Adam Rickman, either." He didn't notice Hermione rolling her eyes as he continued, "I didn't get to watch many movies. Sometimes, at the babysitter's house, but that was it."

"I guess it wasn't a fair question," Malcolm said.

"Wait, it was," Harry said, "I just needed to explain. It isn't the common room that reminds me of a movie. It's you being in the common room that reminds me. Did you ever see 'Casablanca?'"

"That's an old movie," Malcolm said, "I had to watch it in class one time. It starred Humphrey Bogart."

"Harry," Hermione said, laughing, "Do you really picture Humphrey Bogart in Hogwarts."

Harry laughed with her, saying, "Not him, one of the other characters. There was a scene where a French police captain tells Rick, that's Bogart, that he's shutting the Café down. He says he shocked at finding out that gambling is going on, and then he pockets his winnings. That's who I think of whenever I see Malcolm in the middle of the room."

"I remind you of him?" Malcolm asked, shaking his head.

"All I want to know," Ron said, "is what's a movie."

"We'll explain on the train," Hermione said, "let's get going."

As they walked out of the common room, Harry asked Malcolm, "Does it bother you, what I said?"

"I can live with it," Malcolm said, knowing he meant more than just this last conversation. "I like the comparison you made just now." He paused, and then recited a couplet, "O wad some Pow'r the giftee gie us, to see oursels as others see us!"

"Robert Burns," Harry said, to the surprise of everyone. "I read a book of his poems, once," he explained, "I DO read every now and then."

"I just hope everything turns out all right in the end," Malcolm said. "When they made that movie, things were uncertain about how the war would end."

"They still are," Harry said, as he put his arm around Malcolm's shoulder, "but you know, Louie, I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

  
  
  
  
  
  


A/NMalcolm returned home for the summer, but did manage to stay in touch with his friends from Hogwarts. That will be part of the next story, "Life is Unfair: Malcolm's second year." The general outline of the story will follow the story line of Goblet of Fire as much as possible, except that it will ignore what is going on for the most part.

Highlights of the next installment are listed below:

  
  


Malcolm visits Ginny at the Burrow

Reese makes a surprise appearance at the school, and lives.

Dewey's secret way to Hogwarts will be revealed.

Malcolm will make the Quidditch team.

(Oh, wait. They cancelled Quidditch.)

Malcolm attracts the attention of a certain female character that Harry has feelings for.

Draco reveals that he really doesn't like Ginny Weasley. Everyone believes him.

Ginny reveals that she really doesn't like Draco Malfoy. Everyone believes her.

Malcolm does something fantastic and unexpected, and almost no one is happy about it.

Professor McGonagall feels kindly towards Malcolm.

Peeves has a speaking part.

No ghosts will be injured, or killed, although Professor Binns will feel lively.

Pansy Parkinson reveals that she has always trusted Draco. Everyone believes her.

An irritated Owl will dip a letter in the syrup bowl, and then drop it into Ron Weasley's lap.

Malcolm will fly a broom, without throwing up. People will avoid going underneath him, just in case.

Madame Hooch will ask Malcolm a question, even though she already knows the answer.

Malcolm will answer the question, truthfully.

Draco Malfoy reveals, for a second time, that he doesn't like Ginny Weasley. Everyone still believes him.

Francis gets an Owl. No one questions it.

Hal shows up at Hogwarts for Parent-Teacher night.

Lois shows up at Hogwarts for Parent-Teacher night.

Malcolm disappears from the school grounds for a twenty-four hour period, that coincides with Parent-Teacher night.

Neville Longbottom asks Ginny Weasley to the Yule Ball.

Draco Malfoy reveals for a third time that he does not like Ginny Weasley. Everyone continues to believe him.

Ginny Weasley threatens Malcolm to stop spreading rumors about her and Draco. She reminds him of how good her left hook is.

Malcolm gets a threatening letter, from someone named Camilla.

Lucius Malfoy takes an interest in Malcolm's education, and introduces him to 'special friends.'

No one accepts Malcolm's invitation to come to his house for Christmas.

Malcolm admits to spreading rumors about Ginny and Draco. Everyone laughs at him anyway.

Harry Potter threatens Malcolm.

Malcolm discovers he has a case of 'animal attraction.'

Ginny is asked for her autograph, by a reader of Wizard Weekly.

  
  


I hope you enjoyed reading this story. It is hard to try to sustain the suspense in any story, so I did not even bother to try. Another thing I tried to do, but gave up on, was trying to remain true to the book. I realized it's all fantasy, anyway.

  
  


Sincerely, Hibob

  
  


PS I have written this story with my own view of what Hogwarts is like. I know that each of us does have a personal view of our own. Therefore, I have to ask the Question: Christopher Lee or Richard Harris?


End file.
